PROTOTYPE: Sanctum
by CleverDucky
Summary: He was supposed to die, but he didn't. He believed he had been saved merely by chance, but there was a reason. Now, Toby must choose what he thinks is right by the duties of a Marine while ZEUS stalks just within the shadows. OMC M/M slash. AU.
1. Part I, Chapter I

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Part I, Chapter I

_Push me away, make me fall, just to see another side of me. Push me away, you can't see, what I see. The other side of me--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

Toby shoved the dead Blackwatch sentry off his chest and rolled over just in time to dodge a Hunter's gnashing incisors. Behind his helmet, Toby's violently green eyes widened in fear. The large beast rose on its hind legs and let forth a bone chilling roar that had the marine scuttling backward on his hands, frantically searching for any type of weapon.

Blood curdling screams echoed down the street as the infected attacked again and again, feeding and spreading faster than the Marines could control. Faster than the Blackwatch could shoot them down from the roof tops. Gunshots, explosions, and military orders mixed with the snarling and carnage from the Hunters, instilling a unfathomable terror into the souls of the remaining humans fleeing the streets.

An M4A1 lay abandoned a short distance away and Toby dove for it, yelping in horror when the Hunter launched itself after him with an explosive howl.

He knew even before he grabbed the weapon that the monster would rip him to shreds before he had the chance to touch the trigger. He could already imagine the feel of its teeth sinking into his shoulder, tearing muscle and bone.

Its hot, foul breath washed over his neck, the stench of death and blood making Toby's insides roll, and he suddenly wished he was back home with his younger brother and their dog.

He wished he could stand in the farmhouse's backyard and play Frisbee with their hyperactive black lab while Mark tried in vain to repair their father's old Harley. He wished he could smell the crisp mountain air again, feel the wind blow through his T-shirt instead of through his bulky uniform.

He wished the color red was obliterated from the earth.

Toby snatched up the gun and whirled, snapping his finger back on the trigger as the Hunter's massive head lunged for his throat. To his amazement, the bullet shot home, through the roof of the beast's mouth and out of its skull.

But it wasn't enough to kill it, and the gun was out of ammo. In the back of his head, Toby felt himself lose hope and go numb. He grudgingly accepted his fate; become the meal of a massive creature with a black heart and row upon row of jagged fangs.

Toby clenched his eyes shut as his fingers tightened on the useless gun, only to snap them open seconds later when the beast gave an uncharacteristic noise of...pain?

"Holy fuck..." Toby said breathlessly as the Hunter's body split in half down the middle and collapsed on either side of him. Blood splattered across his visor and uniform in harsh, vibrant strokes.

Toby blinked in surprise before shaking himself and scrambling back to his feet, clutching the gun now more for stability than anything else. His dark eyes snapped to a figure sprinting down the street, his arm disfigured into a giant, ruthless looking blade as he leaped into the air and sliced through another roaring Hunter.

"_Target identified! Go, go, go!_"

His commander shouted in Toby's earpiece and the young marine winced. He had almost died just then. He _should _have died. But ZEUS had stopped it? Looking down at the blood covered asphalt, Toby swallowed at the bulk of sliced Hunter to his right. The only logical conclusion he could come to was that Alex Mercer wasn't able to see him from underneath the large body of the monster.

He was positive that if Mercer knew Toby were under it, he would have kept right on going and let the Hunter shred him apart.

"_Knight! Get your ass over here NOW!_" Commander's voice shouted once more and Toby took a step back ,away from the dead beast. With a final glance at the retreating form of Mercer, Toby turned on his heel and sprinted his way back to base, dropping the useless gun in favor of another, more capable weapon.

Less than thirty yards away from where Toby last stood, Alex Mercer glanced away from the stunned Hunter and narrowed his eyes on the young marine's back.

* * *

**A/N: **To be honest, I really thought that the first multi-fic I did would be for Assassin's Creed and that it wouldn't be (possible) slash, but what can you do? Anyway, just so the few readers who do view this know, it will be a slow slash fic, if slash at all. (which it probably will be) I'm sorry this was so short, the next chapters will be a lot longer. This was kind of like a prologue/introductory chapter. Please give me feedback, I want to know how this is coming along. Eventually I will even be drawing Toby and Alex. When I do, I'll put the link in my profile for you guys to see :) Thank you! (please review?)


	2. Chapter II

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter II

_Fear in me so deep it gets the best of me, in the fear I fall, here it comes face to face with me--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

"Nice to see you still breathing, Knight."

Toby didn't even glance up from his hands as he sat on the edge of his rickety cot. The barracks was a cramped, tight space packed with bodies and small beds that were more like slabs of concrete than an actual place to sleep. There was hardly room to walk, but somehow it was managed. At present, funds were flowing into practical weapon supplies more than a soldier's comfort.

On most nights, for the ones that weren't on duty, the marines would gather at someone's cot and trade stories of their day or, if they were lucky enough, indulge in a quick game of Rummy if someone provided the cards. If they had something worth betting, they even played Poker before lights out. The more interesting games continued on into the night.

Currently, a heated game of Pinochle was underway on the other side of the barracks.

"So, kid, how was it? Did you blast some of those pieces of shit back to hell?"

Master Sgt. Cooper stood in front of the younger marine with his hands crossed over his chest and a quirk on his scarred lips. Toby ran a hand through his shortly cropped black hair and stood.

"Yes, sir," he lied and plastered on his best fake smile. Cooper rolled his eyes and roughly tousled Toby's hair, causing the young man to firmly plant his feet to keep from stumbling.

"You're a horrible liar, kid. I take that to mean you didn't kill zilch, which disappoints me. You know I don't like to be disappointed, Knight. My men are the best. My men are supposed to be showing up those Blackwatch bastards." Cooper raised a single eyebrow. "You don't want to make a liar out of me, do you, Knight?"

"No, sir."

Cooper gave a wide grin and Toby could see the blood lust rippling underneath. It was normal now to see the killer surfacing and taking over on the soldiers, what with everything happening. Fear and the need to kill were sometimes one in the same. Every now and then, Toby wondered if that look was on his face when he ran through the streets trying to gun down Hunters.

The older man scratched his cheek thoughtfully and eyed Toby with a curious look. "You were pretty close to ZEUS when he showed up, weren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir. But I was called back to base to replace a guard before I could pursue." Toby was still slightly unsettled, yet grateful, of how he was saved from the jaws of the Hunter.

"Too bad," Cooper grunted. "Bet it would have been a helluva fun time chasing after that bastard."

Toby didn't think so, if Mercer cutting right through a Hunter so easily was any indication. No wonder thousands of their numbers were lost when they tried to take him on. He was a force to be reckoned with.

After a moment of silence, in which Cooper's eyes seemed to X ray Toby from the inside out like he knew what had happened on that infected red street, the Sergeant gave a jaw-popping yawn and took a step back to address the company. His voice carried easily over the jabbering of the other soldiers in harsh barks and Toby snapped to attention.

"Lights out, ladies!" Cooper shouted before flicking off the lights and exiting the cramped barracks to talk with his superiors.

Toby kicked off his boots and flopped onto the rock-hard cot on his stomach in his cargos and Tee, his dog tags digging into his collarbone. He could hear the quiet mutterings of the Pinochle players still going strong (they must of taken out a flashlight) mixed with the creaks and groans of other soldiers settling on their cots.

His head throbbed and he could feel a headache coming on. Back at the farmhouse, he would use Mark's prescription of Naproxen at times like this. Mark had had trouble with constant headaches and migraines since he was seventeen years old and, two years later, had finally went to the doctor for a prescription. Being only three years older than Mark, Toby had decided it couldn't hurt him if he took a dose when he had his own headaches. It never did.

"Do you think Mercer is going to blow up the barracks tonight?" Toby heard a soldier whisper sarcastically. A slight lilting accent in his tone gave him away as Cavin, the handsome and rough looking Irish man from Idaho. His family owned a line of bars and clubs in downtown Potlatch and Boise. When asked why he joined the Marines, he had outright laughed and said, "Because me sweet mam thinks her boy needs to find another outlet besides drinking."

Another man snorted and answered back with just as much sarcasm, "God, I hope so, my ass is still stinging from getting blown back by one of the tanks _he _made explode." It was Scott, Cavin's right hand man. On the front line, the two covered each other perfectly.

Though a good example of brotherhood and trust, it still left a few marines exposed which sometimes cost them their life.

"Yeah?" Cavin chuckled back. "Maybe next time you should watch your ass more carefully."

Toby tuned them out and flipped on his side, staring blankly into the darkness. It was obvious Mercer had done a great deal of damage, again, on their numbers combined with the deaths and casualties from Hunters and the infected. He wondered idly if Mercer's reason for all of this killing and anti-heroism was worth it.

From what he had heard, the man had a sister in hiding. Did he care about her? Toby knew that if he was in Mercer's place (God, he hoped he never was) he would protect Mark within an inch to his life and then some. He'd kill any man that tried to hurt his brother. Then again, Toby was still human. ZEUS was nothing but a virus now.

It was hard to imagine someone being a virus. Or rather, a virus being a someone, but there was the living proof. He had seen it time and again over his months in Manhattan and had even been saved by it. Well, perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was just in the right place at the right time. To think that ZEUS would knowingly save a marine's life was ludicrous.

Still, there was a stubborn tickle in the back of Toby's head that wouldn't let him fully accept that he was saved by accident. Something told him that Hunter was sliced in half at that exact moment for a reason. For one wild moment, Toby entertained the thought of Mercer saving him on purpose. Why would he do that? Was there something Toby had that he needed? And if so, then why didn't Mercer just kill him and take it?

At that last thought, Toby frowned and shoved his face into his pillow. He had just been given a second chance at life, did he _really _want to question why Mercer wasn't waltzing straight into the base and driving his blade-like arm into his gut?

Banishing his questions to the back of his mind, Toby reached under his pillow and curled his fingers around the last letter he got from Mark and pulled the thin, Marine issued blanket up to his chin. Forcing himself to think instead of summers spent at the farmhouse, he dropped off into sleep quickly.

**oOo**

It seemed like only minutes later that Toby was being roughly jostled awake and he immediately sprung up on his cot, sleep-glazed eyes wide open and rapidly becoming alert. Honed instincts that developed over the years from being a man in the military had his arm shooting out and grabbing the hand that was hovering just by his shoulder, close to his throat, before his mind could catch up with the movement.

Toby was used to be woken up early, but something felt off this time. It was completely silent, which was odd because if it was time for the soldiers to file out and switch duties with the other marines, then wouldn't there be more noise?

"Knight, get up." The wrist Toby had wrapped his hand around was snatched back and he heard the scuff of boots on the concrete floor take a step away from his cot.

Hastening to follow orders, knowing that it must be something important if he was being woken up while everyone else was asleep, he slipped on his boots quickly and straightened his shirt that had twisted on him sometime during his short slumber.

"What's going on?" he asked quietly, feeling a certain disquiet settle in his belly. That voice sounded oddly familiar.

The other man didn't answer, but instead made an impatient noise that sounded like gunfire in the silent barracks.

Once Toby had laced up his boots, he blinked hard into the pitch black darkness of the room and struggled to follow the man in front of him who seemed to breeze through the small walkways like it was nothing. _Night vision_, Toby thought. Could it be Blackwatch? They wore that headgear 24/7. He was pretty sure he didn't know anyone in Blackwatch, and that voice sounded _very _familiar, so it couldn't be one of them.

And then it hit him, and he felt rather stupid for not recognizing his own Master Sgt.'s voice.

Feeling a bit less on edge, Toby rubbed his bicep absently and sped up, trying to match Cooper's long-legged gait. Once outside, the moon threw sharp relief on the sergeant's face and Toby felt that uneasy feeling creep back into his stomach again. He looked...different, somehow. And he had nothing on that would aid him in seeing in complete darkness.

"Sir?"

Cooper continued walking, leading Toby around the back of the barracks and through a small alley between what was constructed as the mess hall and the smaller building built for the showers. It was at the very back of the barracks, far away from the sentries on duty and enough out of the way that not even wandering soldiers would happen upon them.

Toby halted and glanced over his shoulder, forest green eyes grimacing at the lack of human contact. "Sir, what's going on? Were we breached...?" he trailed, turning his head back around only to find that his Sergeant was gone.

Well, not gone, but shrouded completely in the shadow of the mess hall. From Toby's standpoint, he looked eerily menacing, his broad shouldered form conjuring up rapid images of Hunters stalking their prey on the streets. Which in turn made him think of the Hunter that almost made a meal of him before getting filleted like a fish.

"Sir?" he said, swallowing and throwing another fleeting look over his shoulder before taking a hesitant step forward.

Suddenly, the body of his Sergeant dissolved into wet, slick looking tentacles that ran over the length of Cooper, dissolving and changing him into something smaller. No, it was some_one_. Someone shorter, leaner, and more fearsome looking than the Master Sgt. could have ever hoped to appear.

Toby felt his stomach drop. "No..."

Lips parted and flashed bared, glinting teeth threateningly from beneath the brim of a hood. One visible electric blue eye locked on Toby. A cold feeling of fear pierced his chest and leaked down his spine to the tips of his fingers and toes.

He didn't even stop to think, he ran. Turning on his heel, he sprinted for the end of the alley he had been lured down with a pounding heart and fear coursing through his system. Adrenaline surged forward like a hungry beast and vaulted his steps forward.

The soft rustle of fabric reached his ears and ZEUS landed directly in front of him, making gravel fly in every direction from the powerful leap. A strong calloused hand wrapped around Toby's throat and shoved him harshly against the metal sheeted wall that surrounded the showering facilities. The groan of metal echoed around them as Toby's body dented it inwards.

Toby made to shout in pain, only to choke and struggle for air as the hand on his throat squeezed and lifted his body easily off the ground. His eyes snapped open and his hands clawed and pushed against Mercer's own desperately, panicked.

Spots danced in front of his eyes and Toby gagged, trying to force out a shout of alarm. If he alerted the sentries, maybe he could make it out of this alive.

Apparently, Mercer knew what he was trying to do and pulled him back from the wall only to slam him into it again, harder this time. It took every ounce of willpower Toby possessed to stave off the pressing tunnel vision. To be unconscious surely meant death, while remaining alert presented the slight chance of survival.

His feet touched ground and had it not been for the hand around his throat, Toby would have fallen over and smacked the concrete beneath their feet. Mercer's free hand slapped over his mouth and Toby blinked slowly, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. Despite his efforts, he knew it wouldn't be long before he lost consciousness.

Those same cold blue eyes dropped in and out of focus and quiet suddenly, Mercer was so close Toby's immediate reaction was to back away. Their noses were almost touching and Toby's weak hold on the hand around his neck pushed with a new vigor.

"Make one noise, and I'll kill you where you stand." Mercer snarled, his tone sharp and rough. Deadly. His statement wasn't a threat, it was nothing short of a promise.

It was suddenly frighteningly clear that his life had been spared not merely on a whim, but very much on purpose. It had been Mercer's intentions from the start.

Toby fought the urge to slump against the wall as his legs shook, struggling to hold his weight as the darkness pressed insistently against his eyes and his lungs screamed for more air. He wasn't going to last long. In a last ditch effort, knowing it wouldn't do any good, Toby brought up one of his shaky knees and impaled Mercer from the side with a jab that would normally knock the breath out of a grown man and send him vaulting to the floor.

Alex Mercer merely growled and cuffed Toby on the side of the head. Immediately, Toby's world was plunged into darkness and his body buckled to the ground.

**oOo**

Once, when he was fourteen, Toby had been raced to the hospital for a concussion. He and Mark had been carefully and cunningly crafting a go-cart from spare bits and pieces nicked from their late grandfather's old red Chevy out behind the barn. It was a rickety contraption and if they hadn't been so young and foolhardy and downright rebellious, they might have stopped to think that driving it wasn't such a good idea.

But, as the saying goes, boys will be boys. So they drove it.

Toby took the wheel first and buckled in with a frayed nylon rope connecting across his lap to the cart's frame. In the passenger's seat, Mark did the same and urged his older brother to drive. The entire ride lasted all of five minutes before the engine bucked and the cart ran straight over a hole that had been eroded into the ground by strong winds and rain.

The front wheels caught the hole roughly and pitched Toby straight from the cart, snapping his nylon seat belt. Mark's had held, though he did lurch forward and bang his forehead on the frame of the cart, causing a painful gash to open on his forehead.

It was Mark who had wrestled himself from the cart and sprinted for their parents, alerting them to the accident since Toby was in too much pain to move. By the time he had got to the hospital and was diagnosed, the pain in his head was almost unbearable. It was like getting bashed repeatedly by a blunt hammer without pause.

If Toby had to compare how his head felt _now_ it would definitely rank right up there with the go-cart incident. Maybe even surpass it. Definitely.

His entire body ached, especially his throat and head. Even his back and left leg were throbbing. With a groan, he opened his eyes and squinted, looking around the barren looking room. It was dark with the only source of light coming from a small, barred window placed high on the far wall. From the lack of sunlight filtering through, he deduced it was still night. How late it was though, he had no idea.

Aside from the mattress on the floor that served as his current resting place and the barred window, the room was completely empty except for a door directly opposite him.

Gathering his strength, Toby turned over onto his back. It hurt, but not so much so that he couldn't roll to his feet and stumble across the room. Feeling adrenaline and fear pulse through his bloodstream once more, he tried to be silent as he reached it, swallowing thickly and hoping that whatever awaited on the other side of the door was something he could fight off. Preferably not Mercer. At least, not now when he had no weapon to defend himself with.

His hand rested on the doorknob and, after a silent debate with himself formulating escape plans and fighting tactics and wondering if he would have to scratch and bite his way out, Toby finally grit his teeth and yanked the door back.

Alex Mercer stood in the open doorway and Toby recoiled immediately, his face twisting into an expression of dismay and anger with fear biting at his heels. The hooded man, previously looking over his shoulder at something out of Toby's line of vision, slowly turned his head back around to regard the young marine with cold indifference.

"You," Toby hissed and took another step back. "What do you want? What am I doing here?" He tried to sound forceful and demanding, but it came out in a wavering, scared tone.

Alex narrowed his eyes and took a step in the room and Toby retreated again. Fear started to cloud his better judgment and something within him snapped. Toby launched himself across the few feet separating them and tackled ZEUS right out of the room.

_Jesus Christ, _he thought as they crashed into the opposite wall. _I'm so dead._

* * *

**A/N: **Hopefully you guys liked it. Please let me know, okay? I don't care if your a lurker or whatever, just drop a quick 'this is good' or 'this sucks', I'll take what I can get XD.


	3. Chapter III

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter III

_Here I stand, hold back so no one can see, I feel these wounds, step down, step down, step down!--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

To be honest, Toby was shocked to find that Alex was made of skin and bone just like himself and that he was able to be moved physically at all. A part of him was half expecting the other man to be built of steel or titanium or some other metal substance less likely to give under his weight. How else could Mercer do the things he did? Destroy an entire street in one bound, swat whole tanks out of his way like flies, even lift the damn things over his head as if they weighed next to nothing.

So, really, it wasn't that far fetched to think Alex had pure steel flowing in his veins. Could the virus really be that powerful?

They hit the wall across from the door and Toby bit the inside of his cheek as his hands fisted into Mercer's jacket and held him there. Even in the hall there wasn't much light, but the piercing electric blue eyes glaring at him from underneath that hood were bright enough that the light wasn't needed.

Toby really couldn't explain if asked why he was doing what he was doing since it was nothing short of begging for death. All that was clear was that ZEUS was what he had been brought into this fucking infected city for and he had been trained to kill him on sight if possible. And his nerves were fraying into nothing from the constant fear eating him from the inside out, and he thought he should at least try.

His hands were shaking and he could smell the stink of his own terror. God, what was he supposed to do? What _could _he do?

Marines were strong, but far from strong enough to take Mercer on one on one.

Toby's green eyes watched as Alex sneered menacingly and made like he was going to throw the marine straight through the wall and to the street below. Before he could, Toby, having remembered with frightening clarity the alley where he had been slammed into the sheets of metal of the shower facilities, felt a burning vexation bubble in his stomach and surge through his arms to his fingertips. With a snarl of rage, he jerked Mercer forward before _slamming _him as hard as he could into the wall.

"What the _hell _am I doing here?" he demanded in a low voice, thanking whatever deity was watching over him that his voice didn't give away his panic.

Alex grunted and encased Toby's arms in a vice-like grip. Toby glanced down and to his horror watched as glistening tendrils snaked over his bared skin. With a shout of disgust, he tried to wrench himself away from Mercer.

"What _is_ this!? Get it off!" Toby yelled and jerked his arms that were slowly being pulled back to Mercer in a painful, bone crunching hold. Good God, what was happening?

"Calm down and shut up," Alex snapped, his rough voice jolting Toby to attention and spiking his fear to an entirely different level.

It was one thing for Mercer to be a silent and intimidating factor, but for him to speak and prove that he was real and _alive _was something else entirely. And, up until that moment, Toby hadn't been fully aware that in the back of his mind he was trying to convince himself this was nothing but a horrible, horrible nightmare.

Alex took advantage of the marine's brief moment of hesitation and grabbed Toby by the shirt collar, kicked his legs out from beneath him, and pushed him to the ground. On sheer reflex alone, Toby's hand shot out and snatched the smooth leather of Alex's jacket and forced him to follow to the creaking floorboards.

At the feel of Mercer's hard and solid body pressed against his own, Toby's rationality was flung out the window as pure, unadulterated terror shot forward and took over. He didn't stop to wonder why Alex wasn't fighting back, he didn't stop to think that just _maybe _this was a bad idea, all he knew was that the predator was too close and he was more or less the prey about to be devoured and he had to _get away. _

Like a caged wolf fighting for freedom, Toby began to kick, bite, scratch, twist and turn and fling himself around desperately, seeking for an escape. But Alex was like an immovable force and kept him pinned, fist connecting wherever it could when Toby's attacks actually started to _hurt._

"GET OFF ME!! LET ME GO!!"

"Fuck," he heard Alex hiss when Toby's knee jerked up and caught him under the chin. His grip loosened and hope flared like a balloon in Toby's chest. He heaved to the left, tearing himself from Alex's grip, and managed to lift himself to one knee and lurch for the end of the hall before Alex crashed into him from behind.

With his face pressed to the faded grey floorboards, Toby started to struggle once more, viridian eyes wide open and terrified. He _loathed _having his back exposed to the enemy while he himself was forced immobile. He couldn't see what they were doing, what they were planning. It caused every instinct to flare on high alert, his blood to pound, and his heart to slam erratically against his ribs.

Footsteps pounded somewhere close and for a wild moment Toby believed there to be _two _of Alex and that they were going to tear him into thin strips and eat him slowly, savoring the flavor of a former Marine. He shouted and clawed at the floor, kicking his legs out and fearing his heart would burst from his chest.

Alex snarled and grabbed Toby's wrists, pinning them on either side of his head and using his legs to hold down the marine's. The wolf pacing and spitting inside Toby stilled and it's hackles rose, lips curling back in a threatening pant. Hot breath washed over Toby's neck, causing his whole body to quiver and shake in fear and disgust and that primal need to survive.

"Alex? What's going on, what are you doing to him!" A decidedly feminine demand rang clear through the hall and Toby jolted, his own lips curling menacingly as he broke into a cold sweat. He couldn't help but think Mark would be laughing his ass off if he could see him now, pinned beneath another man like some kind of...of _wuss._

"Dana," Alex's voice sounded strained, completely and irrefutably pissed. "Do something, before I end up killing him."

"Get the _fuck _off me, damn it!" Toby burst out, jerking at his wrist and bucking his shoulders to try and pitch Alex off. "Let go!"

The woman, Dana, jogged over to them and Toby caught the glint of silver in her hands as she knelt next to him. A Gun?! Holy shit, _they were going to shoot him_!

"No! No, no, no!" Toby wrenched left and right, failing to notice how much Alex was beginning to tremble on his back as he fought to keep control over the struggling marine and his own waning self-control . Toby whipped his face to the side as Dana stuck him with something thin and sharp.

A needle stuck out of his arm, just under Alex's elbow, and already Toby could feel the sedative working through his blood. _Not the kind of shot I was expecting, _he thought sardonically.

"I'll...kill you," he mumbled, glazed green eyes half-lidded and distant. Distantly he felt Mercer shift off of him and flip him effortlessly on his back. Those cold eyes swam into view and Toby tried to scowl and flex his fingers into a loose fist to put emphasis on his threat.

Alex's eyes flickered, catching the silent promise, and twisted his lips into a mocking smirk.

"Fuh...ker," Toby managed to ground out. Alex sucked on his teeth and Toby knew he had finally crossed that final line, snapping Alex's resolve and spiking his frustration to intolerable levels. For the second time that night (early morning?), Toby's head jerked to the side as Alex smacked him soundly on the temple with his fist.

Tunnel vision rushed so suddenly upon Toby he felt sick, but he could still hear the distant murmurings of Mercer and, it finally clicked, Dana, Mercer's _sister._

"The drug was just about to pull him under, Alex."

"...couldn't wait any longer."

**oOo**

His favorite color used to be red, until the infection started. Then his favorite color had been blue, but now he hated that color just as much as red because it was the same shade of Mercer's unforgiving stare. Finally, Toby resolutely decided he preferred white over every other color. Because white wasn't a color. Because white was the absence of color.

And there was never anything bad with white.

Toby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying to erase the dancing spots covering his vision. Agitated, and head pounding mercilessly, he sat up and blinked at the wall in front of him. It wasn't the same room he had been held in before, this one had light and maps covering the a section of the wall, and a computer sitting on a cluttered desk pushed against the farthest corner. And another small window where faint early morning sunlight crept through.

"'Bout time you woke up. I was starting to think the doc would have to come and check on you."

Toby winced as he turned his head around too quickly, causing a spike of pain to shoot through his skull. Dana stood in the only doorway, a faded black backpack clutched in one hand and a water bottle in the other, a set of keys dangled from her pinky.

"So," she said, sauntering into the room and plopped into the chair in front of the computer, dropping her bag by her leg. "Thirsty?" She offered the water bottle.

Toby eyed it warily as his lips formed a thin line. Dana rolled her eyes and dropped the bottle on the floor before kicking it with her foot, rolling it to him. "It's not poisoned or anything," She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. Raising a thin eyebrow, she added quietly, "If he wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"I'm not that easy to kill," he croaked back, feeling defensive despite himself. Toby picked up the water and suddenly realized just how thirsty he was. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth and his throat might as well have been made of cotton.

Dana outright laughed at him and he felt the tips of his ears burn. "Oh, yeah, I saw how difficult it would be for Alex to kill you." she snorted mockingly.

Right. Mercer could kill him with just a flick of his finger and saying anything less of that fact was just stupid. Toby tipped back the water bottle and drank deeply to hide his embarrassment.

He watched as she turned her back on him and began clicking at the computer's keyboard. With her distracted, Toby did a mental check of his body, testing his fingers and legs to make sure everything was working right. His shoulders were very stiff, but he was alive and breathing and that was all that mattered.

Another sharp jab of pain jolted through his head and Toby grimaced, carefully probing the bruised area on the side of his head. _That's going to be a bitch for a few days, _he mused darkly. If only he was able to inflict that same kind of pain on Mercer.

"Are you going to tell me why I'm here or what?" Toby demanded after a long, uncomfortable stretch of silence.

She only shrugged. "It's not my place to say."

"Then _who's_?" he cried, exasperated. "What the hell is going on?"

"You know, some would say ignorance is bliss."

Toby growled. "When someone's life is in danger, mainly their _own_, I hardly think that saying counts."

Dana shrugged and continued tapping away on the computer, opening and closing windows too fast for Toby to see what she was doing. Gulping down the rest of the water, Toby struggled to his feet, using his hands pressed against the wall at his back for support.

"Look, I don't believe in physically harming a woman--"

Dana barked a laugh. "Such a gentleman."

"--but I will if I don't get some answers. Or, if you don't want to do that, just let me go and I'll never question it." he continued, ignoring her unladylike intrusion.

"Like I said, it's not up to me, alright? I'm not exactly calling the shots here."

Toby felt his patience snap. "Listen, tell me who's in charge of this and I'll give you pardon when the army invades this place."

Dana turned to face him fully, her blue eyes, softer than her brother's but just as hard, flicked briefly over his shoulder and the side of her lips quirked into a familiar smirk. "Alex."

"I've got nothing to do with Mercer, so what the hell does he want with me?" Toby growled, raking a hand through his hair, green eyes flashing.

Dana shrugged indifferently and rested her chin on her fist propped on the chair's arm. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Toby's body froze up as his skin prickled ominously, sensing someone standing behind him off to the right. His muscles contracted, rippling just beneath the skin, adrenaline flooding into his blood for what felt like the thousandth time. He felt exhausted, but more than anything he felt trapped, and he resented it.

Narrowing his glittering green eyes on Dana, Toby stepped forward as if to interrogate her further and instead lurched for the desk and snatched up a heavy glass paperweight. Pivoting, he threw the object has hard as he could and watched with heated eyes as Alex merely lifted a hand and effortlessly batted it away, making it burst into a million pieces and fall to the floor.

Dana sighed irritably from the desk. "That was a gift."

"Sorry," Toby muttered. They both knew he didn't mean it. To Alex he growled, "I want some answers."

Alex brushed past him to hand Dana an official looking document, ignoring Toby's furious expression. "Research these files, find out if what they say are true."

"Does it have to do with him?" She nodded in Toby's general direction.

Toby peered at the two of them while Alex remained silent. Finally, Dana grumbled under her breath and turned back to the computer, flipping open the document and skimming its contents. Alex turned around and made to leave, not even sparing Toby a glance.

"Hey, hey! I said I want some goddamn answers!" Toby shouted, following Alex out of the room and back into the hall. When it appeared as though Alex wasn't going to pay him any attention, Toby snagged the sleeve of his leather jacket and roughly jerked it back.

"Don't make me kill you, brat."

Toby scowled and tightened his grip. "You won't kill me," he found himself saying. "If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead." Dana would be laughing at him if she had heard.

Honestly, he was only bluffing, and if Alex called him on it then he would be in some serious shit. Alex could snap again, and this time his fist would do more damage then just knock Toby out. Maybe next time he would spray his brains all over the walls.

Alex turned slowly, his piercing blue eyes pinning Toby in place. "Are you sure about that?"

Oh, God, he was calling his bluff. Toby swallowed and dropped his hand but mentally refused to back down. Stubbornly, Toby lifted his chin and replied coolly, "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Alex's lips curled back in a maniacal smile, almost a grimace as he turned fully and took a threatening step into Toby's personal space. When Toby didn't back down, he raised a questioning brow and moved closer to where their chests were almost touching. Toby could feel the body heat emanating from Alex in waves.

The heat was inhumanly hot, suffocatingly so, but he still refused to step back.

"Not for long if you keep asking questions," Alex growled back, replying to Toby's question-statement. "You're in no place to demand me."

Toby loathed having to look up into Alex's face, being slightly shorter than the dangerous man. Alex's eyes were practically dancing with a familiar blood lust that had shimmered in almost every Marine's gaze back at the base. He idly wondered if they were always that way.

A sudden thought occurred to him, and Toby immediately voiced it without thinking.

"What happened to Master Sergeant?"

There was a stretch of tense silence, and then right before his eyes Alex morphed grotesquely into what used be Master Sgt. Cooper. Toby grimaced and finally backed away, finding it hard to look into the dead gaze of his former superior.

"You killed him."

Cooper's dead body transformed back into Alex who was eyeing Toby with a look of amused disappointment. "I consumed him."

"Same thing," he snapped, glaring harshly. "Why did you do it? Why did he have to die?"

"Everyone dies, even someone as dim-witted as you should know that," Alex said, tone void of emotion.

"That doesn't answer my question."

Alex's glare sharpened to a look of pure annoyance. "To get to you."

_Now we are getting somewhere. _"What do you want with me?" He would make sure that Master Sgt.'s death wouldn't be in vain.

There was a long stretch of silence in which Toby thought Alex wasn't going to answer him at all and just leave. But then Alex shrugged his shoulders carelessly and fixed Toby with that look that floored him, like a spell that refused to let him look away.

"It's not you we want, but your DNA structure."

"My..._what_?"

* * *

**A/N: **And there you have it! The reason behind Toby's kidnap! Well, partly. Next chapter goes into depth about it, I just thought I'd tease you a bit. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. And one more thing, if someone who is reading this does not like slash, please stop reading, okay? Because eventually I'm going to change the rating on this to 'M' and I don't feel like getting harped at. Anyway, please leave a review! Just a quick single word is just as good as a long review (which I love :3) Thanks!


	4. Chapter IV

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter IV

_Fall back on me and I'll be the strength I need, to save me now, just come face to face with me.--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

Alex had refused point-blank to answer any of his questions which had left Toby in a state of burning resentment while Mercer himself disappeared out the door to some unknown destination. Toby was halfway convinced that he was going to combust from the emotional overload and had to pace through the hall, gather his wits, and think like a Marine once more.

After twenty minutes of pacing, and reviewing over every minute of training he had suffered through to get to his current rank including painful moments of drill and PT to gather a rational mindset, he had marched back into the room Dana sat in and tried to whittle out what she knew.

She ended up sending him to take a shower, and once he was done with that, find himself something to eat in the kitchen.

"You can wear these, Alex doesn't wear them anymore." She had shrugged and handed him a bundle of clothes, pointing him down the hall to an open living room and then to the left where the bathroom was.

"You're not worried I'll try to sneak out?" he had asked, sarcastic, but secretly wondering if it were possible.

She had merely smirked and put her hands on her hips. "Now why would you go and do that? Since, you know, Alex just _loves _to consume people you are attached to."

_Oh. _So that's how it was. If he left, Alex would just kill everyone he cared about. Briefly Toby had thought of Cavin and Scott and even Adrian, a quiet, reed like man who had once helped Toby wash his eyes and face after his first time in the tear-gas chamber. Adrian had died a week after arriving in Manhattan. Did he want all his Marine friends to die like that, but by Mercer? Die in a way that, if he had stayed put, Toby could have easily prevented?

Did they know about Mark?

This last thought had sent Toby's world spinning. _Mark_. God, if Mercer knew of Mark he wouldn't hesitate to use his brother against him and he had made a promise in blood to keep him safe.

Without another word, Toby had turned and walked to the bathroom, hoping his stiff posture gave nothing away of his silent worries.

The shower was an immense relief and he ended up staying under the hot spray longer than what was necessary. Back at base, there had only been lukewarm water that would sometimes chill to ice-like temperatures.

When Toby finally did exit the shower, he found to his displeasure that the jeans provided for him were about a size-and-a-half too big. Though the plain grey shirt was a good fit. After dressing, he spent a good while looking in the mirror trying to recognize the man who stared back.

A large purple bruise bloomed on his right temple, stretching to the corner of his eye down to run even with the middle of his cheek. His lip was split, he discovered. Which was odd because he hadn't remembered tasting any blood. Then again, he had been distracted by the whole 'ZEUS-is-kidnapping-you-and-might-just-kill-you' scenario.

His black hair looked rugged, making him appear younger. But his face seemed drawn and haggard, eyes too bright and expression too anxious. And he needed to shave. Badly.

After a quick search, an almost dull razor and shaving cream was discovered in the bottom of the sink. Toby wasted no time, finding comfort in these simple tasks that didn't require too much analyzations or questions.

One day under Mercer's hold and already Toby could see himself cracking at the seams. What did that say about him as a soldier? Toby grimaced, knowing that Master Sergeant was rolling in his grave.

"Hey! Are you done in there? You're hogging the bathroom!" A fist pounded on the door and Toby glanced at it through the mirror. Running a hand over his face, he turned and leaned against the sink, frowning down at the tiles.

The window in the bathroom was big enough for him to escape through. He could climb out, make it to the street below, and haul ass to base. Dana was hardly a hindrance in that plan considering she was nothing more than a woman and wouldn't be able to make it through door anyway since it was locked.

Alex was gone, so he couldn't exactly stop him either. And once back at base, Toby could rally the troops and direct them on a demolition march to this very building. It'd be over then, wouldn't it? Mercer would be dead, Dana would be given pardon by Toby himself, sparing her, and Toby would be able to safely return to Mark in one piece.

It sounded almost flawless, but there were some problems hiding just around the corner. For instance, he had no shoes. Broken glass, blood, dirt, oil, and God knows what else was strewn all over the streets and he was pretty sure that even a teeny tiny scrape on the bottom of his foot would cause him to become infected if he so much as stepped near a splatter of soiled blood.

The last thing he needed was to become a raving, slobbering, flesh-devouring zombie.

And then there was the issue of not knowing where the hell he was.

"Toby! I swear to God if you don't come out, I _will _poison your water next time!"

Toby wasn't native to Manhattan. Fortner street was the same as 8th Avenue to him, even though he was almost positive one street lay on the other side of the island, and the other didn't even exist in this state. If, considering his habit for bad luck lately, he was rather far from the base, how would he even make it there in one piece without a weapon with the infected running around wanting to have a taste of fresh meat?

The door jiggled impatiently; Toby glanced up at the window with a thoughtful frown.

Say he didn't make it in time to base. Say that Alex caught him on his way. Or maybe made it to base before him. No doubt the cold-blooded man-turned-virus would obliterate his comrades and wait for him in the bloodshed and, possibly, kill him on the spot if he saw fit. Or what if, by some sliver of luck, Toby made it to base, but Alex found Mark?

There was no doubt in his mind that Toby would do anything Alex asked of him if Mark was in danger. His brother was all he had left.

"It's a long drop to the street, Toby," Dana said quietly and Toby's eyes flitted to the door. "You can try to escape all you like, but he's always watching you, just so you know." Her voice was muffled behind the wood, but he heard her clearly all the same and it sent a cold chill down his spine.

With a painful grimace, Toby turned toward the window and propped it open as a silent threat that he was deciding to stay but that didn't mean he was going to be taken lightly, before turning back toward the door and wrenching it open. Dana stood just on the other side, her eyes sharp and accusatory and her mouth in a thin, agitated line.

"It's all yours," he muttered before shouldering past her and heading for the kitchen, feeling hunger pangs stab his stomach unmercifully. He would get himself ready for Alex when he came back, make himself as alert as possible, and then corner him.

It was obvious now he wasn't going to be killed or 'consumed' in the near future, which meant for the time being he was safe. And he was going to take full advantage of that fact.

**oOo**

"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"

Dana refused to look away from the glowing monitor, barely giving any indication she had heard him. Toby swore low under his breath and fisted his hands deep inside his pockets. His newly socked feet stepped quietly over the floorboards even though Toby's thoughts were heavy as stone.

"Okay, so something in my DNA is valuable to you two," he said, glancing at Dana for confirmation. She gave an indifferent shrug. "Which means that you had to be looking for something distinct in some files. Which also means that I was chosen at random just because whatever I have matches what you want."

Dana gave a wide yawn and leaned back in her chair, propping her feet on the desk. "Very clever, Jarhead. You have just discovered the most obvious of reasons why you are here. Even a three-year old could have done that."

"You were looking for a Marine specifically, weren't you? Because most documentations on civilians are being destroyed daily and our papers can be easily accessed with the right codes through the system."

This time she refrained from making a comment and settled for raising a curious eyebrow as if to say, _Carry on._

"But why do you need a Marine? What can I do for you? What _would _I do for you?"

Dana sighed and gave a look of bored disappointment. "Well, that was a stimulating conversation. Is there any rice left in the cartons?"

Toby grit his teeth and ran his hands through his short hair before lacing them together behind his head and pressing his foreams against his temples, holding his pressing thoughts back instead of bursting forth like they so wanted to do.

He was getting no where with Dana, and if she was this difficult, he couldn't even imagine how hard it was going to be to break past Alex's defenses and get some answers. The bruise on the side of his face throbbed, reminding him that if struck by the notion, Alex would just haul off and whack him once more instead of dealing with his persistent questions.

Fed up, Toby wrenched his hands from his head and crashed onto the couch shoving his fist into his mouth and snarling curses soundly.

Dana snorted and left the room to find something to snack on. Not a few seconds later, there was a screech of surprise and before Toby knew what he was doing, he was bounding across the room and out into the hall, flattening himself against the opposite wall and inching his way toward where Dana's cry had came from.

Muffled voices reached his ears and he paused, recognizing Alex's rough tone. So he was back, which meant it was time for Toby to demand some answers despite the fact that apparently, 'he was in no place' to do so, according to ZEUS.

"Jesus, I thought I told you not to sneak up on me like that anymore."

"....Sorry." Mercer didn't sound remotely apologetic.

He heard Dana give a weary sigh. "Look, you'd better talk to him. The window in the bathroom was open, I think he's planning to make a break for it."

There was a moment of tense silence and Toby forced his breathing to quiet, too. "You left him out of your sight?" Alex's voice was void of emotion but boiling with such intensity that Toby felt cold sweat dampen his palms and his throat constrict. He sounded so _cold._

"I couldn't let him stay covered in dirt and dried blood, Alex. He might be a fucking prisoner here, but we can at least be civil, he's done nothing to you personally. Or me."

"He's a Marine." Toby could hear the conviction in his words, as if him dressed in the colors and carrying a weapon was reason enough for hate. Maybe it was.

"And you're a cold-hearted bastard sometimes."

Alex gave a low growl. "Did you give him any answers?"

"No, I let him assume whatever he wanted."

"Fine."

Another moment of silence and then: "Are you going to tell me the whole story now?"

Toby felt his curiosity become almost painful as he strained to hear, leaning to the side slightly and fisting his hands against his thighs. Maybe if Alex just gave a shortened version of information to Dana, it'd be just enough for Toby to do something. Anything.

"Not now," Toby felt like howling in frustration.

"What's your reason this time?"

"I don't like being overheard."

Suddenly, Alex was standing in front of Toby and it took all the marine's self control not to flinch back at the unexpected appearance. Instead, he pulled a bored expression and lounged back against the wall. A quick, mocking smirk flitted over her Alex's lips and Toby knew that he wasn't fooling anyone. Least of all Mercer.

Toby scowled and pushed past him. "Alright, you're not being overheard now. So go on. Explain. I at least deserve to know why I'm being held here and _threatened_." He gave Dana a pointed look.

Alex glanced between the two, blue eyes glittering in the low light. "Dana, did the files check out?"

"Everything I found in there was dead-on. And if it has something to do with him, I still don't get how it ties in with us," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down in an old, faded red chair.

Toby glanced over Alex's shoulder toward the study's door where, just an hour before, Dana had been flipping through the file, reading and gaining information. He had been so _close _to it, to finding out what he was doing here, why his life had been spared only to be held in limbo by Mercer.

Alex turned his intense eyes on Toby. "You used to take a drug for headaches before you joined the Marines," At Toby's blank look, Alex growled. "Naproxen."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Toby snapped, feeling more than a little annoyed.

"It has everything to do with it," Alex shot back. "You're DNA structure is formed in a way that allows a certain chemical in Naproxen to corrupt and formulate its _own _chemical. To create something that is deadly and destructive in your very blood."

Toby stiffened. His green eyes were wide as he stared incredulously across at Alex. "What...?"

"Alex," Dana started, shaking her head. "Where are you going with this?"

Alex's look silenced her quickly and Dana averted her gaze to the floor, slumping back into her seat. Turning back to Toby, he said, "The chemical imbalance that your body is creating is useful--"

"I thought you said deadly!" Toby shouted. "Dangerous!"

"It is," Alex replied flatly. "Which is exactly what I need."

Dana's head suddenly shot up, her own blue eyes wide in disbelief. "You mean to use it," she said breathlessly. "Harness it. You can't do that!"

"That's not up to you," He spoke to Dana, but his eyes were locked on Toby. "It's a toxin that, if used correctly at the right moment, will take out an entire Hive. And not only that," he continued, eyes blazing. "It will destroy a whole army fleet in one go. It will clear my way."

Toby staggered back, mouth agape. He was going to needlessly kill so many people, without a second thought! His friends...his _comrades._ Never leave a man behind. Save those who are able to be saved. _Semper Fidelis_--Always Faithful. Those words _meant _something, they were not just empty sounds. They were a Marine's way of life.

"It would have been simple just to kill you and take your blood, but the toxin disintegrates once it hits open air. Even if samples are drawn into a syringe, there is only a few minutes time before it eats itself and dissolves completely, washing from your red blood cells to become nothing."

Dana stood from her chair and shot a quick, almost worried glance in Toby's direction. "So you kidnapped him for his blood? To use it as a weapon?" she asked through clenched teeth. "You plan on keeping him hostage until either he's bone-dry or every Hive in the city is blown to bits?"

Alex's gaze didn't waver from Toby. "I've went over the research with Ragland. If the toxin can be contained long enough, he might be able to create a kind of formaldehyde or even an explosive device with enough kick behind it to take down more Hunters than I could in mere noises.

"Along with countless Marines. Civilians. The innocent." Toby's voice was oddly flat, his expression blank. "You want to use me--to kill them."

"Alex..." Dana trailed quietly, unable or unwilling to finish her thoughts.

Toby took another step back. "I won't let you."

Alex's lips curled slowly into a menacing smile, one so full of callousness and poison it chilled Toby to the bone and made it difficult to swallow. His blue eyes flashed a brilliant silver, like the bullet of a gun, and the shadows around him seemed to lengthen into a writhing monster. Toby knew it was all in his head, but it still felt too real, even _became _real as Alex spoke quietly, yet loud enough for it to sound as if bombs were exploding around them, "You don't have a choice."

Toby's face twisted in disgust and he turned on his heel, feeling too sick, too weary and exhausted and _unstable_ to do anything more. "It's _my_ blood," he said in a low voice, knowing that Alex could hear him.

"Would you rather me use Mark?"

Toby stopped breathing and slowly turned back around, taking in the cruel, taunting smile and madly dancing sapphire eyes. His voice sounded strangled as he forced out an almost silent, "...what?"

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry about the long wait! I got sucked back into Lord of the Rings and am still fighting my way through plot ideas. Not to mention computer problems again. I guess this is a good time to mention this story is AU aside from the fact of my own OMC. I was googling Ragland and I discovered that ::SPOILER ALERT!!! SPOILER ALERT!! SPOILER ALERT!!:: Ragland only comes into play once Dana is snatched by the Hunters. I forgot about that since I haven't played the game in a while and I never got to finish it (I WAS SO DAMN CLOSE!) and had to return it. Sooo...let's just say for the sake of this story, Dana doesn't go into a coma just yet, and Ragland is already helping our loveable anti-hero! Please review you guys! It's very much appreciated!


	5. Part II, Chapter V

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Part II, Chapter V

_'Stay in place, you'll be the first to see me heal these wounds. Step down, step down, step down!'--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

Alex knew what Toby would do even before the thought finished forming itself in the marine's head. It happened so many times during the month they had held him that it was now more a force of habit than anything else. Routine.

So he tensed, ready, and snatched the fist that was launched at his face before stepping to the right and avoiding the kick that always followed. He dropped the wrist like usual because he didn't like to touch Toby. He didn't like to touch anyone, really, but Toby's skin was hotter than a normal person's, it seemed. Being near Toby made his fingers itch and he sometimes ended up throwing back his hood and glaring at the younger man for making him feel smothered.

Alex breathed out from his nose, steadying himself because he had to touch Toby again, and grabbed the collar of the marine's shirt to forcefully lead him down the hall. His protests were routine, too, and didn't hold the same fire they had the first week they began. Now his words were hollow and distant, like he was reading them off a piece of paper and Alex couldn't help but feel satisfied because _damn _did he like to break people down.

It didn't take long to strap Toby down onto the table, the one that took a fucking long time to bring in through the window because of its damn size and the limited amount of moving space Dana's small flat provided. It took even less time to pull out a syringe and give Toby the look that clearly passed the message, _Try anything and you'll regret it._

But he won't try anything because Mercer holds something in his claws that Toby fears. He holds family; Alex holds his brother. And one mistake will be just enough reason to take that fear to impossible levels.

Funny thing, human emotions.

Alex flipped back his hood with a grimace. He really hated how much heat Toby gave off.

**oOo**

"Here, eat."

Dana slid a bowl of some kind of soup his way and Toby took one look at it before frowning and pushing it back. Dana scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It's not as bad as it looks, you know," she said. "I'm sure you've had worse, Jarhead."

Toby looked up and plastered on a shit-eating grin. "As much as I would love to eat your homemade, sweet tasting poison," he dropped the smile and sat back in his chair. "I'm not hungry."

"You never are when he's finished."

"That should tell you something, then."

Dana sat across from him and folded her arms over the table top. He knew she was looking at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. He felt too sick to deal with her right now, he always did when Alex released him. He heard her give a heavy sigh and saw out of the corner of his eye as she dropped her head on her arms.

"I've asked him to be easier on you, but he's got a one-track mind."

Toby snorted, remembering how Alex would jab the needle into the crook of his elbow without any warning or even wiping the area with disinfectant. The first time the bastard didn't even bother making sure the needle was properly cleaned and had later resulted in Toby getting sick. Ever since then, he'd get nauseous just at the thought of Alex taking blood from him.

Even now he could feel his stomach flipping over and cold sweat moisten his palms. _Damn you. Damn you both._

"Here's a thought, why don't we just stop the blooding all together? Then we can all live happily ever after and go prancing through meadows of daises and wildflowers." he said sarcastically, running his fingertips over the opposite hand's knuckles.

"Of course, right after Alex dances a jig to a jazz number." Dana muttered back into the nest of her arms.

Toby rolled his eyes. "Hell would freeze thrice over."

Dana lifted her head from her arms and looked thoughtfully out the window. "He wasn't always like this," she said quietly, almost in a whisper. Toby turned and gave her a skeptical look. "When we were kids, he was actually kind of nice and would play Tea Party with me."

Toby snorted and shook his head. "Forgive me if I can't picture ZEUS sipping sugary tea with his biscuits."

Dana's eyes cut across to him with an underlying spark flashing in their depths. "Alex."

"What?"

"His name is Alex, not ZEUS."

Toby lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "Alex is dead. He died in Penn Station, Dana. ZEUS may look like your brother, may even say things that your brother used to say, but it's only a virus."

He watched as Dana stiffened and narrowed her eyes on him; tension building and building behind her stare. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was really only a few seconds, she stood abruptly from the table only to hesitate and glare fiercely down at him. She opened and closed her mouth like she wanted to say something, but what could she say? He was right, and they both knew it.

She breathed in through her nose and turned away, calling back over her shoulder, "If you don't eat, you're going to start dry-heaving soon. Your body needs something solid."

Toby scrubbed his face with his hands and peeked out through his fingers at the soup. It didn't look the least bit appetizing, Dana was obviously not a very good cook. Suddenly, he felt bile rise up in his throat and his stomach tightened anxiously.

"Ah, hell," he groaned and stumbled from the chair toward the bathroom, one hand smacked over his mouth and one reaching out for the door.

**oOo**

There was this huge oak tree back at the farmhouse that he and Mark would swing on when they were younger. A rope was tied onto one of the lowest branches, the only branch they could reach, and they spent hours pretending they were secret agents stuck on a desolate island on its branches with no communications to the outside world.

It was a nice escape back then, it allowed them to get away from how tough things were getting at home. Their father had been fired and their mother was trying to get a job and, on top of that, there was the medical bills and house payments and God knows what else to cough up pennies for. So to be able to just run out back and disappear into wild imaginations was pure bliss.

Until their father had burned it down. He never really could give them a coherent answer for that, he had been drunk at the time and later he just refused to talk about it, saying it was just some stupid tree and there was no reason to be so damn upset about it.

Toby figured playing in that tree was kind of like living like he was now. The deserted, isolated imaginary island was the apartment. He was trapped and had no way of speaking to people on the outside. Except, here, he was being kept against his will instead of being able to just simply jump down and walk up a set of stairs to his house whenever he wanted.

And Mark wasn't with him; that was the most gut-twisting acknowledgment of all.

Toby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and sighed heavily up at the ceiling of his closet-turned-bedroom. He couldn't sleep, never could after a day of having blood taken. The once a week appointments he had with Alex were taking their toll on him. Bruises were forming under his eyes and he was positive he had shrunken a few belt sizes. And he knew he wasn't as strong as he used to be; a month with no regular exercise like he was used to was just horrible.

A soft noise caught Toby's attention and he sat up on his pallet, the blankets pooled around his waist. The noise came again and it sounded like someone was walking around the living room. The steps were too heavy to be Dana's, but too careful to be anyone friendly, which set Toby immediately on edge.

"...damn it," he growled and fumbled around in the dark for his jeans. Alex stayed gone after taking blood, presumably hanging around the doctor Toby had heard about; he wouldn't be back this soon. And Dana...well, she wouldn't be up for another couple of hours.

Maybe the Marines had found him?

Toby opened the closet door as quietly as possible, wincing when it squeaked on its hinges. Once cracked enough for him to slip through, he breathed a silent breath of relief and crept out into the hall. He pressed himself into the shadows out of habit and crept toward the living room where the noise was coming from again. It sounded quiet, like the person was purposefully sneaking around.

The hairs on the back his neck stood up and he swallowed. _Please...please be here to get me._

Without the close walls of the hall the chilly night air bit at Toby's skin and he flinched, regretting not grabbing a shirt before he went all 'Mission Impossible' and sneaked around in the dark. Grimacing, he rubbed absently at his bare chest and peeked around the corner, searching for the person he was sure was creeping around the flat.

"What are you doing?"

Toby yelped and jumped back, smacking his shoulder on the corner where the living room veered sharply into the hallway. He swore soundly and glared at Alex while he rubbed his sore shoulder angrily.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," Toby hissed. "I think I dislocated my damn shoulder."

Alex raised a single eyebrow as Toby rotated is arm in a wide circle, scowling like someone had just insulted his mother.

"I said, what are you doing?"

Toby crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes on Alex. "What are _you _doing? Come to take more blood, or are you just taking a holiday? Must be stressful, killing at random and slaughtering Hunters."

Alex was silent for a moment before visibly stiffening with an irritated scowl. He huffed a short growl and reached up to flip back his hood, revealing electric blue eyes darkened to a deep shade of indigo and lips turned down in an expression of utmost annoyance.

There was a small cut on his cheek that was still bleeding slightly, though it was clotting on the edges and looked almost black in the dark. Dirt was smudged on his face, too, and there was grass stains on the collar of his shirt that poked out of his jacket. A woodsy scent mixed with the faint stench of blood and sweat drifting off his skin and clothes, reminding Toby frighteningly of his tree back home.

"Someone had a rough night." Toby cleared his throat and glanced away, feeling defensive under Alex's intense glare. "So, who kicked your ass? I'd love to send them a fruit basket for their troubles."

Alex sneered but didn't answer. Instead, he turned away from Toby and walked toward the window, planting one hand on the wall next to the clear plane and the other scrubbed the back of his neck. Toby chewed the inside of his cheek as he watched the other man, wondering what would happen if he tried to get some answers out of him.

He glanced over his shoulder back at the closet door and knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep. Not when he still felt so wound up from letting a trickle of hope convince him the Marines were here to bust him out and send him on a plane back to Mark.

Looking back at Alex's hunched form by the window Toby sighed quietly and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. He padded over to the window and settled with his back to the wall, facing the dark living room in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alex shift and glance over at him before fixing his eyes back on the road below.

"What did the doc tell you?"

Alex looked up from the street to Toby again, meeting the marine's steady gaze with his own careful, much more guarded one. "The toxin keeps devouring itself before anything can be done." he said.

Toby closed his eyes and rested his head against the brick of the wall. "I would rub this in your face and gloat just to piss you off on any normal day, but something tells me I'm going to be a lab rat pretty soon."

"Soon," Alex agreed. "Very soon."

A heavy weight seemed to settle on Toby's shoulders. He breathed a loaded sigh and gazed down with a blank expression at the carpet, idly rubbing his hand comfortingly over his shoulder like Mark would have done if he were there. Or like Adrian had done when Toby got the letter saying his mom had died back before their squad was transferred to Manhattan.

He swallowed and took a moment to unstick his tongue from the bottom of his mouth before turning to Alex and fixing him with an unreadable stare. "What's going to happen to me, Alex?"

A retired Marine once told him that only dead men see the end of war. He wondered if this was the end, because he felt dead. He felt empty and broken and forgotten. Hollow were his bones and black was his blood and lifeless was his body. Were they going to carry him back home on a plane? Maybe they were never going to find him. That was probably best, Mark would be torn apart if he saw his brother's dead body.

Yeah, it was best if Mark never saw him like that--defeated and beaten.

Toby felt resigned as he watched Alex, the shadows flickering over his sharp features like dark secrets never to be told. A part of him felt resentful that he didn't know those secrets because he wanted to. Who was Alex Mercer? He wanted to know sometimes, but maybe in another life. When he wasn't so dead.

Alex's eyes darkened even more, smoldering against the hazy moonlight. Something in Toby's chest seized up and it felt like he had been punched in the gut with a brass hammer.

"Nothing," Alex said after a long stretch of silence, his stare not allowing Toby to look away. Trapping him and pinning him in place like a snake ensnaring its prey. "Nothing is going to happen to you."

"I'm going to die. You're going to kill me."

Suddenly, Toby felt an irrational rage building in his belly and spreading like fire through his veins. What was the point of all this? War was war and this entire fucking thing about viruses and diseases was _not _going to resolved just because Alex could make a damn bomb out of toxins from his blood. It was not going to end because wars never did, they lasted for years and years. Sure, they could be buried, but they were never really settled, were they? They always came back sooner or later and usually with more force and hate than the first time.

"I'm going to die like a damn dog and I can't do a fucking thing about it!" Toby said, his voice building to a shout as he continued and fisted his hands at his sides. "I hope they kill you! I hope they find you and tear you apart, you godforsaken _leech_!" He crossed the small distance between them and pushed his face right in front of Alex's. "You can't change anything, you _started _this shit!" he hissed. "All of this is your fault. I wish I could be the one to pull the trigger. One through the skull," he tapped Alex's temple roughly. "And one through your black heart." he smacked Alex's chest with a closed fist and left it there, pressing it into Alex as if it were the bullet itself, digging through his skin and piercing the thumping organ he could feel through the skin.

Alex didn't move for a long time. He stayed very still as Toby breathed heavily against him, all but ripping him apart with his eyes. Eyes that begged for justice and freedom and bloodshed. Eyes that looked so much like Alex's.

Toby was about to walk away, or start throwing punches, he wasn't exactly sure which, when Alex's hand shot up and caught the wrist of the hand fisted against his chest. His breathing deepened and slowed, reminding Toby momentarily of a Hunter and sending a shock of fear down his spine.

"You have no idea what you are talking about," he murmured, voice low like deadly poison. "Don't talk of things you don't understand." When Toby opened his mouth to protest, Alex's gaze sharpened. "No. Quit talking for once. This _is_ my fault," he agreed as a dangerous smile lifted his lips. "But they will never kill me," he squeezed Toby's wrist, showing just how easy it would be for him to snap it in half. "And neither will you."

"You'll pay for this."

Alex tilted his head to the side, contemplative. "Possibly."

He walked away after that, leaving Toby standing in front of the window alone as he disappeared through the front door as silent as mist. A hot, pleasurable heat undulated low in Toby's belly and he winced, wiping a hand roughly over his face. After everything that had been happening, after everything that Alex was making him go through, a raw and hungry attraction still had the audacity to pulse inside Toby's bloodstream.

He felt sick. And sorely disappointed that Alex had not fought him back when he hit him in the chest. Grimacing, Toby spun on his heel and slammed his closet door behind him with a loud 'smack', before burrowing his face in his musty pillow and muffling a cursing scream.

_I hate you, _he thought bitterly. _I hate you and I will_ _kill you if I have the chance. I won't let you escape what you deserve, Alex._

For the rest of the night, Toby stared blankly at the wall with thoughts of murder and lust and hate circling like carrion birds around his head.

* * *

**A/N: **Sorry it's taking so long, I fear I'm starting to lose my grip! Never fear, I'm positive I'll be smacked with a solution to my writer's block soon. Hopefully it's not reflecting in my writing. So, yes, a month has passed and Alex and the doctor are having trouble with the toxin-bomb (will be more detail on that later.). And, yes, the relationship is starting to unfold. Yay! I'm crossing my fingers that you guys can see it working on both sides. Please, please review. Feedback is always appreciated and _always _helps me get in gear and start writing the next chapter. (And you guys KNOW you want the next chapter since things are heating up!)


	6. Chapter VI

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter VI

_'Can I break away make me fall, just to see another side of me. Push me away you can see, what I see, the other side of me.'--_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

"I'll be back soon," she had said. "No more than two hours," she had said. "Not even long enough for you to get into trouble." she had said. Those, Toby now realized, were nothing but lies.

Dana wasn't coming back in two hours. It would be a goddamn miracle if she came back at all now. He felt sick, physically _sick_ as the last echoes of her screams fell away into the fading sunlight and newly creeping darkness. Beside him, Alex was practically vibrating with rage and fear and it was the first time Toby had seen him act so _human._

It was disconcerting, in a way, after thinking of him for over a month and a half now as nothing but a virus. One that he found slightly (just slightly, nothing more. Really. Honestly.) attractive, but a virus nonetheless.

But now it was as if he was the real Alex again, as if Alex was suddenly alive and the virus was nothing but a bad dream. If only Dana could see him now instead of being hauled off violently in the hands of a slobbering, growling, monster of a Hunter heading off to...hell, to bum-fucked Egypt for all they knew.

The sky stained itself an unforgiving red (God, he _hated _that color) and started to bleed slowly into a deep, dark purple. Like a painful bruise.

Alex lurched forward shouting Dana's name just as the Hunter leaped over and behind one of the nameless, numerous buildings littering Manhattan. Toby just barely snagged Alex's sleeve, and even then had to dig his heels hard into the gravel of the roof to keep himself from being flung over the edge.

"FUCK!" he shouted and scrabbled for footing. "Alex, _Alex_!" Toby gripped the rough leather of Alex's jacket tighter and hauled backwards as hard as he could. "Fuckingshit!"

Alex was like a wild animal, pulling and snarling against his hold, completely hellbent on chasing after the monster that had taken his sister. Deep inside, Toby rejoiced that there was still something human left in the man after all, but then shoved it away because it was stupid to think about anything of the sort.

"Let _go _of me!" Alex dug his shoulder into Toby's chest and the pain that bloomed there was white-hot and _fierce_. Toby didn't let go, though. Instead, he pushed into Alex and tangled his legs and arms with Alex's in a sloppy full nelson and locked his muscles.

He knew it wouldn't hold, he could already hear the slick wet noise of those black and red tentacles creeping out of Alex. The sick feeling in his stomach worsened but he swallowed it down. He had to get Alex to listen to him before he got himself killed.

"Do you want to save Dana or not?" he hissed, eying the menacing looking extensions hovering so close that had burst from Alex with a wary, cautious eye. Nothing the Marines taught him could have ever prepared him for any of this. From getting kidnapped by a man-turned-virus to being used as a lab rat for his blood toxin to eventually coming to care for both the bastards who had taken him.

It was like Stockholm syndrome, only enhanced and amplified to impossible levels, to where it couldn't even be categorized in the same vicinity as Stockholm's because of the sizable difference in mental and physical alterations.

Toby swallowed and closed his eyes tight, wishing for all the world he didn't feel relief and a pathetic kind of reassurance at having Alex's weight pressed against his chest. Hoping that what he was about to propose would work because, despite how much he had fought it over the past month and a half, he was worried for Dana, too.

"Alex, listen to me," he said, his voice hoarse. "I think I know how to save Dana."

The black cord-like whips stilled in the air and Toby opened his eyes.

**oOo**

Alex gave a subtle shudder at the intense heat coming off of Toby. He hadn't been listening, not really, up until Toby had said that he knew of a way to save Dana. Only then had Alex realized that he was seconds away from killing the marine and had forced himself to gain back some semblance of control, but only just barely. The effort made him shake and oddly enough he felt chilled against Toby's warmth.

When Alex calmed down enough, he felt Toby move away from him, though his arms slid from around his arms and wrapped firmly across his chest and shoulders. If he concentrated, he could hear the erratic beat of Toby's heart and could feel Toby's own body shaking like mad against his. It sparked something in him, something he'd rather not think about at all, especially when Dana could be dying. With a struggling effort he pushed it away and took in a deep, ragged breath.

"Hurry up," _before I push you off the edge and start running._

**oOo**

Dr. Ragland stared at Toby as if he had grown three heads and thirty pairs of eyes. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Toby felt like slugging the aging man right in the mouth. "Turn my blood into bombs. Now."

Ragland's lips twitched as if he were fighting back a laugh. "Where's Alex?"

"He's gone to track down the Hunter that took Dana!" Toby shouted, feeling like he was going to blow up himself at any second. "I've already explained all of this to you, now will you _please _do as I fucking ask?"

Finally, it seemed as if Ragland sobered up as he turned and fiddled with a few shiny looking tools on a tray. "I'm guessing you know how this works, right, wonder boy? I take your blood, it becomes unstable, you go weak and sick all over my floors, yadda yadda."

Toby waved a dismissive hand impatiently. It didn't matter that he was going to be a bit woozy after this, what mattered was getting the blood compacted as soon as it was out of his body so that he could help Alex with Dana _before _it became unstable.

He walked over beside Ragland and sat down on the edge of the cot, the choking antiseptic smell of ammonia burning his nose badly enough, after a few short seconds, to numb it.

Toby watched as Ragland pulled out a long, thin needle and snapped it onto a syringe. God, but he hated needles. To distract himself, he drummed his fingers on his knees and bounced his leg on the lino floor.

"Why didn't you just come to where we were to take my blood before?" Toby asked as Ragland rummaged through a box of latex gloves. "The toxin always ate itself because of over exposure, if you were with us, that wouldn't have happened, right?."

"That's right," Ragland glanced over his shoulder. "I see you've been talking to Alex."

Toby snorted and scrubbed his face with his hands. What Alex and him did couldn't really be classified as _talking_...more like friendly fire without the friendly part.

"Too dangerous to travel that far," Ragland grunted, answering Toby's question. "Without armed guards and many, many forms of artillery. I would've liked just sending Alex back to you with the necessary equipment, but," he gestured to his left where, pushed into a corner, sat a large and bulky machine glittering with chrome outlines and glass projections. To Toby it looked like something from a Scifi movie. "It's a little big and too delicate for Alex's rough handling."

Toby trembled and a ghost of a smile lifted his lips before he pushed it away, kicking himself for even _thinking _down that road. If Mark were with him, he would have smacked Toby on the head and yelled, "PERVERT!"

He cleared his throat. "Is that thing going to keep the toxin safe?"

"It should," Ragland smirked. "Haven't had the opportunity to test it 'til now. Alright, let me see your arm."

**oOo**

Toby pressed a finger to his neck on the throat mic. "Alex? You there?"

Static buzzed loudly in his ear when he released the button, before cutting off soon after as Alex answered him back, "Yes. Did you get it?" He sounded out of breath and very, _very _angry.

"I got them, there's three. Where are you?" Toby sprinted to the nearest vehicle and prayed thanks to the heavens that it was unlocked.

Alex cut off the static once more as he relayed an address that Toby had trouble remembering. If he was right, it was at least eight, maybe nine blocks away. God_dammit _he didn't know left from right in the city, thanks to never bothering to learn differently. He'd thought the Marines would always be there to dispatch him to wherever was necessary without hassle. Easy, simple.

Bullshit.

"There's more of them here, keep low," Alex said, his tone sounding oddly strained and distorted over the connection. "If you come from the left--" There was an ungodly roar that vibrated through every nerve-ending in Toby's body and he _almost _ripped the mic out of his ear, had it not been for Alex's equally paralytic (for completely different reasons than the Hunter) and haggard shout of pain. It caught off mid-pitch.

"Alex? Alex! Answer me goddammit!" Toby yelled, breathing heavy into the thick silence of the car. The static crackled in his ear mockingly. "FUCK!"

Toby ripped out the bottom of the steering wheel and hot wired the car. The wires sparked and sizzled in his hands, but thankfully the engine roared to life and he quickly twined them together.

"Alex, if you can hear me, I'm coming," he shouted through the connect. There was no response.

The truck's tyres protested loudly on the asphalt as Toby swung out of the lot, forgetting each and every lesson he had learned about driving as a teen and fixating solely on the roads as he sped past them, looking for the junction that would take him to Alex.

_You better be alright, you bastard. You had better be fucking breathing, or so help me..._

By the time Toby swerved into the turnpike, he believed that his eyeballs were painted over with the colour red, as was everything within sight. His stomach rolled but he shook himself and jumped out of the truck.

As soon as his feet hit the pavement, Toby bent over as the rancid smell of cordite, blood, and infection attacked his senses and made him sick, curling up and dry-heaving helplessly next to the truck.

"Ah, fuck..." Toby carefully stood straighter, one hand going back to steady himself on the driver's door. He covered his mouth and nose with one hand while the other went to his jacket pocket, unconsciously stroking the three thin cylinders, barely protected by the fabric of his coat.

He had to find Alex, and quick. Dana could be dead by now for all he knew and Alex well on his way. Toby shook his head violently, hating the fact that thinking of Alex as being dead _dead _was enough to make his nerves short circuit and leave him blindly staggering for the nearest wall, his hand jerking itself from his pocket as if it had been burned.

"Knight? Oh, my fuckin' God! _Toby_!"

A hand snatched at his shoulder and Toby was whirled around. Scott stood, breathing heavily under his gear, with his helmet's face-plate shoved up to show his smoke and blood streaked face. He looked exhausted and haggard, but Toby could see the relief and shock strikingly bright in his eyes.

"It _is _you! What the hell? Where have you--SHIT!" Violently, Scott pushed Toby down and out of his line of fire as he let loose a round of bullets at the advancing Hunter. Had it not already been previously wounded, it would have devoured them instead of collapsing in a bloody, stinking heap.

Toby's eyes were drawn to the Hunter's side by their own volition, perhaps sensing what he himself couldn't consciously understand. Three deep gashes were slashed into its' side, reminding Toby of roadkill splattered on asphalt left for the carrion birds. Of razor sharp claws forming where a hand was supposed to be.

_Alex._

"Come on. Hey! Come _on_! We have to take cover, they're breaking the defenses!" Scott snatched Toby's elbow and hauled him up from the ground.

"Wait--no! I can't!"

Scott looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind. "What the fuck are you on about? Do you want to die, Knight?" He had to yell in order to be heard over all the screaming and gunshots and blood-curdling roars.

_Bombs. Ragland. Gotta find--Alex. Alex! ALEX!_

Finding it physically impossible to explain to Scott what he had to do, Toby shook his head roughly and twisted around, sprinting back the way he knew the dead Hunter had come from. Behind him, he heard Scott curse loudly and then his heavy footfalls as he chased after him.

And then there was the sickening sound of crushing bones and a single, wetly muffled whimper.

Toby knew even before he looked, knew that it was too late and pointless to see the devastation, but he stopped running and looked back anyway.

Toby moaned quietly to himself like a beaten pup. "_Nooooo._"

The deformed beast fell just off to the side of Scott's body with a hollow 'thump', it's jaw open in a silent screech of hate as the bullet holes in its skull spurted blood down it's pink, fleshy face. A few yards away, Toby could hear Cavin's distinctly accented voice crying out hopelessly for Scott to-- "Get _up!_ Scott! I cannae--I cannae hold 'em off for long! Scott! Oh God! OhGodohGodohGod--SCOTT!"

When Toby looked up at him, Cavin's face was broken. It was the only thing that came to mind to describe it. His usually rugged, handsome expression was pale, sickly looking, and so full of pain it was like a physical force punching Toby in the stomach. There was not a single trace of the teasing grin Cavin usually wore, it was gone, wiped away coldly as if it were never coming back again.

And it was suddenly very clear _why _Cavin was so affected. The complete and utter heartbreak was like a shining beacon in his eyes, and Toby looked away, embarrassed and terrified of what he had seen exposed before him, unintentional as it was.

A wild scream of rage and hurt echoed over all the other noise as Cavin whipped around and began shooting blindly, too far gone to care anymore. Toby squeezed his eyes shut. It had all happened so fast, so damn _fast. _In the space of thirty seconds, a life had ended, another had shattered, and he was forced to watch it.

Gathering himself, Toby ran back to Scott's body and gently removed the gun from curled, dead fingers. He didn't tear his eyes away from his own hands, unwilling to look into the endless pit of glassy hazel that had once reflected a living, breathing man.

The next thing Toby was concsious of, he was running like hell down the road toward where he knewAlex was. Later, when he would end up questioning himself, he wouldn't know exactly _how _he knew, just that he did and that had been enough, and that's all that mattered.

**oOo**

"Alex!"

The relief Toby felt at seeing Alex standing and fighting was enough to almost knock him over and send him sprawling to the ground.

He stumbled over the broken and cracked asphalt like a drunk, swinging the gun he had pilfered off his comrade's body around and letting round after round unleash on the slavering monsters littering the road.

Just ahead, Alex leaped into the air and shot back down like a bullet, slamming his fists down into the concrete and snapping it to pieces like it was nothing. Seconds later, it seemed to Toby as if the world exploded as giant black spikes burst from the ground, spearing and maiming any and all that was in range of the attack.

Something nudged his foot and reflex had the barrel pointing down in lightening speed. Next to his leg, the end of one of the spikes quivered harmlessly. Something (_Alex..._) was physically holding it back when, truly, it was supposed to have struck him right through the chest and killed him.

When Toby looked up, Alex's eyes were locked on him. They were slightly crazed and too bright with a sick excitement whirring like a physical energy inside them. Toby swallowed and forced his nerveless legs into a staggering run, knowing that he wasn't running at all, but _crawling _to Alex.

_Pathetic, Knight. How the fuck were you _ever _a Marine, huh? What kind of Marine crawls like some kind of worm on the front lines? What happened to your sense of duty? Your pride?_

Toby sneered and clenched his free hand into a tight fist, stopping only when he felt blood on his fingers. _I don't have any fucking pride left! My sense of duty died along with Scott!_

He couldn't help it. He winced. It was too easy to see Scott's broken corpse, blood leaking from his eyes, ears, mouth, and nose like a steady river.

"Dana?" Toby panted, grasping onto Alex's sleeve for support as his knees shook dangerously when he finally reached him.

Alex pointed wordlessly to ahazy red (_Fuck!_) building in front of them. It was swarming with Hunters, their monstrous bodies fighting to get out, fighting each other, as they tried to grab a meal.

Toby slipped his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out the three cylinders and stared, dazed, down at them. The red buttons on top flashed ominously as if saying, "Push me, push me. I'll make it all better."

"Are you alright?"

Toby laughed without humour, the kind of crazy chuckle you choke out when you're on the verge of cracking completely and have no way to stop it, and met Alex's sharp look. "Yeah, 'course. Sure."

Alex took the explosives easily from Toby's hand and, quite suddenly, without even thinking about it, Toby flipped his wrist and grabbed Alex's arm tightly back. He glared, actually _glared _with a fiery blazing purpose, up at Alex--unable to fully comprehend what he was even saying as his lips moved.

He knew he was speaking though, because Alex's eyes flicked between his own and he gave a short curt nod as if he understood. It even looked like he was preparing himself for something-- To lean in? Say something back?--but he didn't. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and turned away, launching easily straight at the building and disappearing through one of the many broken windows.

Toby watched the building for a small stretch of time, not even long enough to draw in and exhale a breath. It was long enough, however, for one of the beasts over-running the street to launch a large chunk of asphalt at a large crowd of Army and Marine battalions. It was long enough for Toby to be clipped on the head by the granite in the crossfire. It was long enough for Toby to go down, knocked out cold.

* * *

**A/N: **-cringe- Sorry it took so long, end-of-the-year exams and all that jazz. Yay--(sarcastic). Special thanks to Joveesia for helping me out of my writer's rut. =__= Losing your writing muse is such a biiiiiitch. Please forgive me for being MIA, the next chapter will be out sooner, scout's honour. Please review!


	7. Chapter VII

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter VII

_'Fall! Can I break away, push me away, make me fall just to see another side of me. Push me away, you can see what I see, the other side of me.'-_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

He was distantly aware of hands pawing at him, and he wanted to push them away because _shit _were they hurting him. But he couldn't move, not really. His body felt like it was full of lead and moving his head even the slightest left him sick and reeling.

But then he was lifted into the air and if he had thought he was feeling bad before he didn't really have a _clue _as to what feeling sick really meant.

People were talking-or screaming, he wasn't exactly sure-over and around him. It was fuzzy, like a channel on cable you try to watch even though it's practically all static. He thought he might have heard his name called a few times, but each time he tried to listen closer a sharp ice-like pain would stab his head and the voices would fuzz-out even worse.

At one point, Toby tried to call out for Alex. The pain immediately whiplashed him with a vengeance and threw him headlong into unconsciousness once more.

**oOo**

He dreamed.

Or maybe it was more like a memory, only there were parts he knew never happened.

Like Mark stabbing his new wife, Grace, in the chest (he had begged for that to happen while he stood behind Mark during the wedding, he was too young for a wife...and she was bitch) with the heel of her fancy shoes. And then there was the part that Toby and Mark's friend, David, had stripped and jumped into the crowd like a wild animal.

He wasn't sure if that actually happened, considering how drunk he had been at the time.

But then there was the bit of the first real fight he had ever had with Mark, and _that _was painfully real. Mark had been distance since then, cold and indifferent even. It was Toby's fault, he knew, and it hurt that he had lost a little bit of Mark, but it was that fucking bitch who caused it. If _she _wasn't in the picture then Mark would still be as much a part of him as his left hand.

The dream-slash-memory faded away and Toby groaned loudly. What the _hell_ had happened to him? His arm, ah, God, his arm hurt. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting at the harsh light aimed straight into his eyes. They throbbed in their sockets and they suddenly, and very violently, dilated.

"Mr. Knight? Can you hear me?"

He tried to speak, tried to say _Well, who the fuck are you? Where am I? What happened?_ but his throat was as dry as sandpaper. He gave another groan and turned his head away from the offending light.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." The man who was speaking chuckled deeply and clicked off the tiny flashlight he had been using to inspect Toby's eyes. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, if that's alright?"

Toby tried to answer and ended up choking. Thankfully, the doctor handed him a cup of water wordlessly and waited while he gulped it down before asking permission once more.

"Yeah, fine," Toby rasped, wincing at the stabbing sensations in his throat. God _damn. _"Wait, who are you?"

"My name is Dr. Cody," He smiled. "Now, do you know what day it is?"

Toby rubbed his forehead. "Wednesday?"

"Is that a question?"

"Wednesday."

Dr. Cody scribbled something on a notepad. "Not exactly," He chuckled at Toby's sharp look of annoyance. "Now, now, don't get all hissy. It _was _Wednesday when you were last awake, but it's Friday now."

"I've been out of it for two days?" Toby asked incredulously. "What the fuck happened to me?"

Dr. Cody frowned reproachfully. "Well, we can't be having any of that now, there are ladies present."

Toby felt rightly admonished and muttered a quick apology.

"We will get to the interesting parts momentarily, but first I have to run through the basics to make sure you don't leave here worse than when you arrived." He chuckled to himself and pulled out a notepad. "So, any nausea?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

"Nope."

"Headache? Double-vision? Hallucinations?"

Toby sighed irritably. "No, no and no."

"How's your arm doing?"

"...It's fine."

Dr. Cody smiled knowingly and scribbled something down onto the pad. "Why don't you tell me the last thing you remember? You hit your head pretty hard and you have a minor concussion. It might be a bit difficult to recall some things, that's normal."

Toby furrowed his brow in concentration and looked at his hands. There were flashes, quick images of what had happened the last time he was awake, but it was hard to make sense of them. He could remember a lot of noise, screaming and animalistic (_snarling?) _grunts that were decidedly feral. Just thinking of them made his skin crawl and the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He shook his head, albeit miserably, and looked back up at Dr. Cody with a frown. "I...I just can't-"

There was no explanation for what happened next, no way of knowing how or why it happened or what caused it, only that it _did_, and Toby was stricken in place by the sudden understanding of everything around him. He stared up at Dr. Cody with a rising horror and he felt sick, more so than before getting whacked in the head with the rock (because he remembered now, good _God _he remembered _everything_), and helpless, like a weak, blind little pup.

"Mr. Knight?"

"Sorry," He winced. "I think that headache's coming on now."

Dr. Cody hummed to himself and closed his notepad, stuffing it into the pocket of his white lab coat. "Well," he sighed and clasped his hands in front of his stomach. "I guess that can't be helped. When you are feeling up to it, I'd like to continue this conversation."

"Sure."

"I'll send a nurse back with your medicine."

Toby nodded but Dr. Cody was already walking down the short walkway lined with hospital/army cots toward the open archway that led to other rooms at the brigade's exposal. When he was out of sight, Toby flopped back on his cot with a muffled groan.

He was back at base. He was back with the Marines. And Alex was...well, he could be dead for all Toby knew (his chest constricted painfully at the thought, causing him to wince and roll over on his stomach to mash his face into his pillow) and Dana, too, for that matter.

But he was back where he belonged, this is where, for the past two months, he had been trying so hard to get to. He was safe, he was home.

So why did he want to just run straight back into ZEUS' claws?

"Toby! You're awake!"

_...impossible._

Toby whipped around painfully on his cot, almost flipping himself over the side in the process, and stared wide-eyed and slack jawed at the archway. Mark gaped back at him.

He looked different, a bit more mature. Though he looked younger than ever with his mussed hair and red-rimmed eyes, standing there with his chest heaving and hands fisted at his sides. It reminded Toby of when Mark had been eight and had caught their dad in the process of dressing up as Santa Claus. It had taken Toby hours to calm him down and explain the sad truth of Christmas.

"...Mark?"

And then Mark was running down the aisle and all but tackling Toby down into the mattress as he hugged him, tripping over his feet (he'd always been so unbalanced) and toppling half on, half off, Toby.

"What are you-how did you," Toby wrapped his arms tight around his younger brother, forgetting Alex for the moment and focusing solely on the smaller man in his arms.

"I thought you were dead," Mark gasped. "I thought you were dead and that I'd have to identify your body."

"You always think the worst," he chuckled breathlessly and squeezed Mark's shoulders once more as he pulled away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

"I didn't really have a choice, you disappeared, Toby!"

Toby sat up on the cot and smiled sheepishly, feeling shaky and on edge. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that, man."

Mark looked shocked and a little sick around the edges. "So you _did _desert the Marines?" he mumured, appalled.

"What?" Toby felt a tremor of fear slide down his spine. "No! What the hell? Who said I was a deserter?"

Mark shook his head. "It was the only logical explanation. You just...vanished, what were they supposed to think? And then you're gone for two months without a word then, suddenly, they find you out in the middle of the street like everything's fine and dandy!"

Toby winced, seeing the old anger that Mark harbored rising to the surface. "I didn't desert anyone."

"Then where the fuck were you?"

Toby sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Stop cussing." It was an old habit, one he hadn't dropped even when Mark was old enough to think for himself. Somehow, he had taken to reverting to it when he felt backed into a corner.

Mark recognized it and snapped his jaw shut, eyes bright and burning with anger and a bit of hurt. Toby felt instantly guilty. "You're not going to tell me, are you?" His voice was flat and without inflection.

Toby swallowed and looked at a point over Mark's shoulder. "I don't remember anything." His voice was just as emotionless.

"And after everything I've been through, all the interrogations and bullshit they threw at me, you won't even tell me what really happened."

Toby's eyes snapped back to Mark's. "What did you you say?"

At that moment the nurse walked in and smiled pleasantly at them, mistaking their closeness as brotherly love instead of a heated argument on the verge of eruption.

"Just going to insert this into your drip, Mr. Knight," she turned to Mark. "He will be asleep in just a few minutes, maybe you should come back later when he's awake."

"Right. Fine." Mark muttered and stood from the bed, pointedly ignoring Toby's eye. "I'll come back and see you later."

But he didn't leave, not immediately. He waited until the nurse left after giving Toby's IV the appointed dose before sitting back down and leaning forward to press a kiss to Toby's forehead.

"I missed you, you know. I felt like I was dying when they told you were gone and they found blood out by the back buildings. _Your _blood." He sounded so vulnerable that Toby squeezed his eyes shut and bit his tongue.

He couldn't tell him. Not yet, possibly not ever. Why? He wasn't so sure, but something told him quietly, _not yet, not yet, not yet._

Mark pulled back and on impulse Toby sat up and grabbed the back of his brother's head, resting their foreheads together and staring him straight in the eye. "Brother to brother?" he murmured.

It was stupid, maybe, and very childish, but it's what they had said to one another as kids whenever one had done something terrible and the other promised to keep it secret and never tell. It was a gesture of deep trust and understanding, and he hoped beyond hope that Mark would understand this now and accept his silence for what it was. At least until he could figure things out.

Mark's eyes hardened and for a second Toby thought he was going to wretch himself away, but then they softened completely and a small, sad smile lifted his lips. "Brother to brother," he agreed quietly, and sighed. "Damn it, Toby."

Toby smiled lazily. "Stop cussing," he slurred, feeling the affects of the drug kicking in. Mark chuckled and released himself from Toby's now slack grip and stood.

Toby stopped him again by grabbing his hand. "What did they do to you?" It took him a minute to get the words out, but when he did, Mark only shook his head.

"Later. I'll tell you later," he said, and patted Toby's hand. Toby was asleep before he even walked out of the room.

**oOo**

Alex dropped onto the building's roof and crouched by the edge, his eyes scanning the guarded yard below. Men with guns and heavy artillery walked the perimeter and he could almost feel their eyes searching the night's shadows for a glimpse of him. They were getting smarter.

Passing over them, he glanced around the buildings until he found the one he wanted. After a moment, he shifted back to his feet and silently leaped a little closer. He wouldn't move in just yet, he'd wait. He had to make sure that it was the right building.

He wasn't exactly sure why he was doing it but he didn't much care anymore. A part of him felt the need to sit and wait, just like a part of him had felt the need to chase down the Hunter that had taken his sister, just like a part of him was in pain now that she was in a coma. There was no reason for it, only that pressing..._thing _that was pushing him on and on and wouldn't give him a moment's peace unless he listened to it.

It was persistant, and it burned like a pleasurable fire under his skin. He could feel the flaming ball inside him, its licking fires shooting through his bones and making his insides writhe in a delicious kind of agony.

He would wait. And once he was for certain, he'd make his move.

Alex moved back into the shadows, his bright electric eyes alight with something a virus impersonationg a human had no right in feeling.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm not sure if this was out sooner than the last one...OH WELL! It's out now :D Alright, so I'd start preparing for 'M' rated slash. I'm serious, if you guys don't like things of that nature, I suggest you just stop reading. If not in the next chapter, then the one after that because I'm looking for this story to end once it hits ten chapters and there shall be slash-smut before it is COMPLETE.

Please review!


	8. Chapter VIII

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter VIII

_'No one can see anything on the other side of me! I walk, I crawl, losing everything and waiting for the downfall!'_-Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

The next two weeks passed by rather quickly for Toby. There were times when the questions became so intense that he thought he would break, but then he would think of Alex and how he hadn't broken under his cold stares and sharp tongue during those months, and he would be okay again. For a little while.

Mark was the hardest. It was difficult to lie to his brother, and what made it worse was that Mark _knew _he was lying. And so did Cavin, but Cavin seemed to have given up on the world and didn't, as he put it, "Give a shite about fuckin' Americans and their shtupid stories." The man was like a living human shell with a gun.

Dr. Cody was persistent and a little too intuitive for Toby's liking. He was especially curious about the faint needle scars on the inside of Toby's arm where blood had been drawn for the explosives. It took quick wit to draw his attention away from them, however it never lasted long. Toby had a feeling the man knew exactly where Toby had been all along, but he just couldn't figure out why he was covering it all up like some kind of shameful secret.

Then there were the officers and higher-ups drilling him constantly about where he had been, what he had been doing, who did it, where were they now, were they lethal, how many were there, why couldn't he remember anything useful? He could see they were getting impatient and it worried him, but, honestly they couldn't do anything to him except give him temporary leave for health related reasons.

Dr. Cody backed him up, saying that he had been through a great deal and with the injury he had received when they found him, it was a miracle he was even coherent and hadn't sustained permanent brain damage.

Why he was doing this, Toby wasn't sure. Maybe it was some roundabout way of convincing him to confide in him and spill the huge mystery. Or maybe Dr. Cody was really a nice guy and was helping Toby from all the hounding like the decent man he was.

Toby didn't trust him, and he suspected the former.

**oOo**

Toby rubbed his hands together and sat down on the steps of the barracks. The air was thick with cold even in the middle of the day and, truly, it was stupid to be out in it without a coat but he had felt that crazy feeling of being suffocated rising with each passing second until, finally, he couldn't take it anymore and broke for some air.

He had left Mark asleep back in his room (which was in actuality a temporary holding cell for goddamn deserters, but, hey, who was complaining?) on the squeaky cot. Grace, the bitch, had arrived sometime last week, and was in the cafeteria sucking down coffee spiked with all the alcohol she could get her prissy little hands on.

He could hear the crows cawing in the distance, gorging themselves silly on the rot and decay of Manhattan's meaty insides served out in the open just for their pleasure. The stink of the city reached him easily over the air and he sneezed, scowling in disgust.

_This place will never be saved_, he thought. _There's nothing left _to _save. It's all destroyed._

Strangely, the fact didn't upset him. Rather, a small part of him was satisfied that Manhattan was lost to the virus. It meant that all the bad, all the _red_, would drown on itself until it, too, was dead and gone.

"Self-destruction at its finest," he muttered and then almost choked as the irony slapped him in the face. Talk about self-destruction, _he _was the one that had been silently praying all this time Alex would jump from the sky and...well, he hadn't exactly thought that far ahead. There was Mark, and the Marines, and his _life _weighing on his shoulders to consider...

Fucking hell.

Toby groaned and abruptly stood from the steps and started walking. He didn't really know where, exactly, but then again there wasn't many choices. He was confined to base until put back in the line of duty.

On impulse, he found himself rounding the corner that led into the short alley walk between the Mess Hall and the shower building. An odd feeling spread through him then as he stared at the wall where, not so long ago, he had been slammed against and held up like a fucking pinata. The indention was still there, and, if he squinted, he could almost see tiny spots of blood stained into the cracks and fissures of the metal sheets.

He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over the mess. Alex had done this to him, had caused a lot of pain, and yet here he was, safe and sound and unable to open his mouth and give answers to questions that would surely bring ZEUS down. He didn't even bother asking _why _anymore, it was too disgusting (embarrassing) to think about.

Toby grimaced and promised himself that if Alex ever showed his face again (and, God, did he pray that he would), he would try his damnedest to crack his fist over the man's skull.

**oOo**

Alex dropped to a predatory crouch, glanced around at the surrounding guards-noting that they were at a far enough distance to not give him trouble-and leaped.

He had contemplated consuming someone and then moving in, but, for some reason he himself couldn't understand, he decided not to and opted to keep his own skin on this time around; and the impatience was becoming almost intolerable, he didn't think he could wait long enough to grab someone.

It was hard to maneuver his way in broad daylight without being detected. His skin prickled with the intensity of it, of how hard they were searching for him. Did they expect him to come like this? Did they know why was coming?

Two of them passed a few yards ahead, and he drew back, sliding around the corner of the barracks just as one turned, thinking they had heard something. His companion shrugged and they continued on, heading to the battlements without another thought.

Alex smiled grimly, and quietly moved closer to the one building he had scoped out and watched for over a week. If he was smart, he would have just dropped it. If he was smart, he would have left Toby to his fate, turned right around, picked up the broken pieces of the life he now lived, and faced his monsters.

But he could _smell _Toby, and it was making his sensitive nerve endings buzz in anticipation, his body tremble because he just couldn't get there fast enough-he was moving and he had no choice, really, but to accept the well known fact that he just wasn't smart at all.

And then he could see him.

**oOo**

There wasn't any warning at all.

One second Toby was alone and inspecting old memories forever etched onto the metal walls, then the next he was suddenly very _aware _as the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his head screamed, _TURN AROUND!_

**oOo**

Alex took a step, saw the line of Toby's shoulders tense, watched his legs brace and hands fist at his sides. He felt his very skin shiver over his bones as Toby whipped around and glittering blue met burning green.

**oOo**

They clashed.

**oOo**

Alex hadn't expected much of anything to happen when he found Toby again. He hadn't thought about it because everything, the watching and waiting and planning, it was all on impulse. There was no direction to it; it was like the crazy zigzag motion of a child's crayon when put to paper. Totally out of control.

So it came as quite a shock when Toby, after getting close enough, didn't say anything at all-but merely moved with a certain grace and hidden agility that was oddly endearing to the eye. Until said grace and agility became a fist of fury and slugged him right in the jaw.

Toby's hiss of pain could be heard past the sudden ringing in Alex's ears. "OW! Ow, _fuck_!"

The hit had more than enough power behind it to knock a normal man flat on his ass in a coma, but Alex wasn't exactly a normal man. His head jerked to the side and he took a half-step back to keep his balance, eyes slightly dazed and unfocused as they stared, unblinking, at the wall next to him.

Toby cradled his sore hand carefully, thinking maybe he had punched a little too hard since it felt like his wrist had just snapped in half. Though, to be fair, Alex felt like he was made of steel, so maybe he hadn't hit hard _enough._

"I hope that hurt," Toby snapped, and stepped forward to fist Alex's jacket in his good hand. "I thought you were dead, you fucking bastard."

"Is that how you greet everyone?" Alex asked darkly, fingers touching his bottom lip gently and coming back stained a bright red. He glared down at Toby with a raised eyebrow.

Toby snorted and gave him a rough shove without releasing his grip. "No, you're _that_ special exception."

"I'm honored."

"Smart ass."

The fury began to ebb away and Toby squeezed his eyes shut to try and gather himself together. Honestly, he hadn't _actually _meant it when he had told himself he was going to knock the shit out of Alex. But seeing him there as if nothing had happened, as if Toby _hadn't _just completely disappeared, as if he hadn't cared that he did, had torn out the snarling wolf inside-teeth and claws at the ready.

And, _damn, _had it felt good when his fist connected like that.

"Alex..." Toby sighed, and opened his eyes, about to ask with as much sarcasm as humanly possible, "How's your jaw?" but the words never made it past his lips. They became stuck, lodged somewhere in the back of his throat like some kind of stubborn bastard with an agenda.

He was suddenly very aware that he hadn't yet let go of Alex's jacket and he was standing too close; yet he didn't move or say or word. He hardly even breathed.

There were times when Alex's eyes had turned different shades. Like when he was angry they seemed to lighten and spark like an out-of-control firecracker. Or, on the rare occasions when he was just a little relaxed, a little more approachable and not so wont to rip someone into shreds, they would soften to an off-crystal colour, less hostile.

But-and Toby knew he hadn't known Alex long enough to put much stock into this, but it was just a _feeling_-they had never been this shade of blue before. Dark and hazed, like twilight. They seemed to whisper promises that made Toby's skin prickle and a pleasant knot coil slowly, _hotly_, low in his stomach.

_For fuck's sake._

As if it wasn't bad enough, they were having a fucking _moment-_like a couple of teenage girls on a first date.

Toby, in the span of half a second, saw it going one of two ways. Option A, he could drop his hands and move away, say something cutting and allow their 'relationship' to go back to the former, 'I-hate-you-I-hate-you-too-we-are-gonna-end-up-killing-each-other-but-who-gives-a-fuck?'

kind of affection it had always been and deal with the burning desire that came with the package, or, option B, he could dive in and say to hell with precaution and see what happened.

He couldn't remember being so indecisive since before Adrian had died (and God, had _that _been hard to get over. Talk about heartbreak with a capital H, though Cavin seemed to have even worse than himself did...obviously there had been love between Scott and Cavin while between himself and Adrian it had simply been physical comfort.) but that seemed like a cakewalk compared to this.

_He's ZEUS. This is treason. This would kill Mark._

And that's what settled it, really. It always came back to Mark. Mark was his flesh and blood, his brother, everything else didn't matter when brought compared. Blood was thicker than water, after all.

Toby took a step back and let his hands drop back to his side as he thought up the first insult that would lay it all down. Alex jerked him back, uncomfortably close, and smashed his mouth down onto his in a bruising kiss.

He could have pushed him away, could have verbally bit his head of and signaled the guards to his presence. But he didn't. He stood there and felt his bones melting into into liquid fire.

The kiss, Toby felt, had started as nothing more and nothing less than simply their lips pressed together. But then it seemed as if Alex had been possessed by only God knows what and took it deeper by opening his mouth and sensually licking Toby's bottom lip, nibbling and giving a gentle suck.

He was shocked to say the least. For one, he had expected it to be rough and completely feral-and he wouldn't deny that a part of him was disappointed that it wasn't-but it was a nice surprise to see that not everything about Alex was downright deadly and savage.

Alex kissed with a secret confidence Toby hadn't realized he possessed and the marine had to bite back a cynical laugh when he stepped closer, fingers tightening in Toby's shirt. _Cocky bastard._

Something told him this would come back and totally bite him in the ass later, but if Alex was going to do _that _with his tongue while his chest pressed solidly against his own, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

He didn't know he was being walked backwards until the bricks bit through his jacket and Alex tilted his head, deepening the kiss and giving it a new edge. And _there _was the Alex he knew, animalistic and impulsive.

Toby felt Alex slip a leg in between his legs. He rolled his hips against Toby's and any coherent thought shot itself out of sight in a blast of colours. Heat. It was so hot, yet it was as if he couldn't get enough of it. Alex himself tasted like delicious fire and Toby felt helpless and burned trapped against him.

Alex's tongue danced around Toby's, drawing it out and sucking on it before teasing him some more, all the while his hands clutching like a vice on Toby's hips and forcing him to press insistently into him.

"Oh, my God." Toby's jerked back so fast he almost knocked himself out against the wall. Alex froze and stared down at Toby, apprehension slowly dawning in his glazed eyes. He pulled away stiffly and turned to look over his shoulder.

Mark looked pale and sick outlined in the mouth of the shorty alley, mouth set in a grim line and a shocked expression shadowing his handsome face.

"Oh, my God," he repeated, voice hardly above a whisper. "Toby."

"Mark-"

"What have you done?"

* * *

**A/N: **I am SO sorry! For those of you who have already read this chapter and checked your email and saw the alert, please forgive me! I was reading through it about an hour ago, just to see where I had left things off and how I was going to go into the next chapter and I saw that SOMEHOW Cavin's name had been switched to fucking Cable! I spent a good five minutes staring at he screen wondering what the fuck was going on, then went into denial with myself saying "No, no, that's impossible. Spellcheck wouldn't do that to me.", only the little bitch did and I just about died of an ulcer on the spot.

I went back, corrected it, and then threatened Spellcheck to within an inch of its worthless, meager life. I sincerely hope it doesn't try to royally screw me over again, or else I just might knife it. With a toothbrush. Because it so totally deserves it. -mumbling- Stupid piece of...argh.

Anyway, I'm so sorry to those of you who thought this was an update. I'll make it up to you, I swear. If this is your first time reading the chapter, then congrats! you didn't get a false alarm! But you can still leave a review :) Thanks, you guys, for all the wonderful feedback, it really makes me happy and the updates come a lot faster.

OH! Before I forget! Joveesia, the amazing, talented writer (torturer) she is (seriously, check out her story _Connections_), has been helping me through my ruts with her endless wit and cleverness. Thank you so much! If it wasn't for you, I'd probably be wallowing in the dark abyss that is Writer's Block.

Review, and see you guys next chapter :)


	9. Chapter IX

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Chapter IX

_'No one can see everything on the other side of me! I walk, I crawl losing everything on the downfall!'-_Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

"What have you done?" Mark asked again, voice hoarse and strained.

Toby shouldered past Alex and made to go to his brother, only Mark had stepped back and thrown his hands up in front of him as if to ward off an attack. Toby stopped dead.

"Why are you-I can't _believe _you would," Mark stammered, shoving his fingers through his hair. "All this time! All this time you were working with _him_?"

Toby blanched and immediately starting spluttering, words getting jumbled and confused somewhere between his brain and mouth and coming out a complete mess.

"You said you weren't a traitor! My God, Toby, what the _fuck _were you thinking! Huh?"

Finally, Toby found words. "It's not what you think!"

_...That's it? What the FUCK!_

"What?" Mark asked dazedly, and then his face twisted into an expression of pure disgust and a loathing so heavy it looked unbearable. "Oh, so you're not fucking him? My mistake, I thought for a second I saw his _tongue down your throat!_ Guess I'm just seeing things, right? I mean, I couldn't have _possibly _just seen my brother trading spit with the guy topping America's Most Wanted list!"

"Mark!"

"SHUT UP! Just _shut up_, Toby! You've pretty much just cut your own throat! You might as well be dead with the maggots eating your goddamned eyes out and I don't know if I should pretend I don't see you or go get someone of authority to handle this!"

Toby swallowed and shot a quick glance over his shoulder. Alex was immobile, but his eyes were were flickering between himself and Mark, and Toby felt a spike of fear shoot through his blood. Their former warmth was gone, and in its place was left a cold and calculating stare. Heartless and malevolent.

And Toby suddenly realized just how much danger Mark was in. After all, he was just one kid, barely even a man. Just one. He could easily be dealt with and everything would be fine. No alarms, no guns, no nothing.

All Alex would have to do was just barely flick a finger, and Mark would be dead.

"Mark-"

"_What_? What could you possibly have to say?"

"You need to leave," he said, not daring to step closer. He could feel Alex behind him, could feel the air expand and contract as he readied himself for the kill.

"Leave?" Mark repeated incredulously. "What the _fuck _do you mean, 'leave'?"

"Just do as I say!" He shifted a little to the side, blocking Mark as much as he could without making it obvious.

"You're not in the position to be telling me what to do, you-"

"Mark, _run!_" Toby moaned, and, without sparing his brother a second glance, spun on his heel and launched himself at Alex, bowling into him and crashing them both to the concrete.

**oOo**

Toby did some stupid things in his life. Strapping his brother into a questionably-safe go-kart had been one of them. Coming out to his dad and expecting nothing to change was another, along with skipping his ACTs the first time, not going to college, using his best friend Trixie as a cover-up in high school-and the numbers just kept rising and rising. It made his head spin just to think of it.

But, if he really thought about it, if he forced himself to go down that long list of memories tainted by his foolish actions, then he knew he'd find that the most senseless thing he had ever done was join the army. Nothing but bad luck had come out it from the start.

It broke him away from Mark soon after their fight, widening the gap between them and making every conversation they had strained and awkward at best. It changed him, though he couldn't see or catch what exactly, he could _sense _he was different and it made him crave that much more for the carefree man he used to be.

There was also how, during the weeks he had been back at base, he had been forced to notice just how two-faced the whole business was. It made him sick. The officials planned not to keep Manhattan and its people safe, or even to destroy the virus, but to keep it beneath their thumb and in their control.

Men were sent out every day, dying and killing (sometimes innocents) because they were ordered to protect and serve (_Lies, all lies_). No one was really meant to survive it except Blackwatch, the Marines were the decoys-bait.

Toby hated it all, hated everyone involved. He regretted ever signing his name on that dotted line and giving his life, his entire world, over to the greedy pigs sitting behind their desks smiling their secret smiles that said, "Excellent, here's your gun, here's your tags, now be a good little dog and carry out our every command."

For all of his screw-ups, though, there was thing Toby could always count on. He never made the same mistake twice.

**oOo**

Mark turned and fled.

It was the last time Toby would see him alive.

Toby threw all weight onto the body beneath him, snatching one of Alex's wrists and slamming it down next to his head. He used his free arm to pin Alex down by the chest, his forearm pressed threateningly against his throat.

"Don't move. Don't you _fucking _move," Toby hissed, knowing that even as he spoke he sounded near hysterical.

Alex's eyes were thrown into sharp relief, his hood flipped back and pooling around his neck. His dark hair was mussed and stuck out at odd angles like he had just rolled out of bed, and if Toby hadn't been so sure he was a ruthless, savage killer, he might have been mistaken him for some harmless man sprawled out on the ground.

Alex's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

"You were going to kill him," Toby unconsciously tightened his grip. "He's my brother, I couldn't...I just-"

"He'll alert them, they'll kill you, you know that." Alex shifted and growled deep in his throat when Toby refused to budge.

"I know," he snapped and tensed, expecting Alex to throw him off at any second and make a straight shot after Mark. "But I just couldn't let you murder the only family I have left!"

Alex bared his teeth, exposing his unnaturally sharp canines in a vicious snarl. "Get off, Toby."

"No."

_Please, don't throw me off. Don't throw me off-Oh, God, Mark._

"Get. Off."

"Fuck you."

Alex's eyes flashed brilliantly, and with what seemed hardly any effort, he twisted and flipped them over, pinning Toby harshly beneath him. He glared.

"Don't kill him!" Toby shouted desperately, angrily, squeezing his eyes shut and bucking, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "Please, God, just don't kill him! I'll rip your fucking arms off!"

**oOo**

Alex growled and snatched Toby's wrists, slamming them back down into the concrete. "Stop it."

Toby bared his teeth much like Alex had done to him, and sucked in a deep breath, readying to a howl as loud as he could. Alex grimaced and, without giving it a second thought, snapped forward and covered Toby's mouth with his own.

When he pulled back, Toby was silent and staring at him with narrowed eyes. He squeezed his wrists a little harder.

"Don't do that again," Toby said, tone low and mutinous.

He gave a small smirk and mock-leaned in, his smirk growing into something resembling a half grin when Toby flinched back.

"Why?" he asked, and tilted his head toward Toby's neck. "Afraid that Mark is going to come running back and see you again? Or because you can't resist?" He insinuated the last with a sharp bite and sensual lick right next to Toby's jugular.

"Alex...I'll fucking kill you." The threat would have sounded more like a promise under normal circumstances, but instead it came out breathy and only a little venomous.

Alex hid a wicked grin against the skin of Toby's throat.

**oOo**

Toby didn't make it easy for him. Not in the least.

He fought every move and every step, pushing and pulling like some fucked up magnet. With every sharp scrape of Alex's teeth on his skin, he returned in kind with twice the bite. Every shove, he shoved harder, every whispered harsh word, he hissed it back, nastier. It was crazy and out of control, and what made it that much more exciting was the glaringly obvious fact that _Alex was loving it._

It was insane and Toby's mind staggered at the revelation before blanking completely.

His entire body trembled with suppressed pleasure as Alex's hands clenched against his hips, holding him still as he ground down into him. Toby's mouth dropped open and his head jerked back, spine pulling taught like a bow.

He yanked back Alex's hood and bit down on the soft skin just under his jaw. "Come on, you bastard. This the best you got?" He slid one hand down Alex's throat and squeezed while painfully tangling the other through the soft hairs at his nape. "_Pathetic_."

Alex's immediate answer was sharp snarl and he forcefully yanked Toby to his feet before shoving him back into the building. Toby wedged a foot against the wall and vaulted forward, spinning, and slammed Alex in the same place he had just been. He leaned in and crushed his lips against Alex's, licking and biting with a renewed fervor, silently goading Alex to _come on, come on you can do better than this._

Alex said something too quiet for Toby to catch against his mouth before slipping his hands between them and shoving them under Toby's hoodie and shirt, searing the skin there with his hot hands. His fingers pulled Toby impossibly closer as he tore away his mouth, pressing his lips against his ear.

"You're not going to walk away after this."

_Mark's going to hate me._

"Fine."

**oOo**

They broke two lamps and knocked over the coffee table, and Toby knows they cracked the window because he heard the glass give when his back hit it. Alex smirked at him when he yelped, but growled like a bitch after Toby socked him in the jaw again. Jackets, shoes and socks were shucked at random, ready to unearthed later but for now not given a second thought.

Mark was going to be mad. He was going to hate Toby for the rest of his life, and yeah, he felt like shit for it because that was his _brother _he had just abandoned. But for once Toby found himself disgusted at the thought of crawling back to Mark and seeking redemption; he'd done it his whole life, why couldn't he just let it go for once?

Toby barked a laugh as Alex's feet tangled with his own and they tumbled down onto his old mattress in a heap of flailing limbs.

"Watch it!" he hissed as Alex's knee came dangerously close to hitting a very sensitive part of his anatomy. Alex snorted, but carefully kept his legs away from Toby's crotch.

His shirt was forcefully pulled over his head, and Toby felt a little dazed from the abrupt movements as Alex arched his back like a cat and started kissing him again. It was only when Alex's tongue curled around his own and his hands drifted from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach and still moved lower, that Toby bucked and tore his mouth away.

"Off," he growled, and pulled sharply at Alex's remaining shirt. If he was going to be half-naked, then by God, so was this stupid asshole, too. Alex rolled his eyes, but pulled up and yanked off his own shirt with a scowl.

When he moved back toward him, Toby met him halfway and planted his hands behind him to keep himself from falling on his back. _Enough with me being the fuckin' girl here_.

Toby lost track of everything then, because Alex's hand had slipped between them and was taking off his jeans and straddling him and _ohgodohgodohgod_.

His arms went numb, and he sprawled back on the bed. He vaguely felt Alex pushing his jeans the rest of the way off, barely heard them hit the floor, followed by a second pair, because Alex started slowly rocking against him in a pale comparison of what was coming up.

He might have moaned, but he'd never admit to it.

"H-Hang on," Toby gasped out, biting back on a whimper. "You gotta have something. Anything."

He cracked his eyes open and caught a glimpse of Alex's confused expression before the man ducked out of sight and started kissing and biting down his throat. Toby halfheartedly pushed at his shoulders.

"Spit only does so much, Alex. Please-_shit_," Toby shuddered as Alex rubbed against him again, dragging forth a ragged breath. "_Please_, tell me you've got lotion or-or..._ngh_."

Toby finally got Alex's full attention by gripping his hair and jerking, exposing Alex's pale throat to his own teeth. "You don't even know what you're doing, do you?" he murmured against his skin. Alex tensed up the slightest, which was answer enough.

Toby laughed and flopped back down onto his back. "Good God, this is fucking priceless."

Alex grunted and scowled sharply down at him. "I don't see how this is funny."

"Roll over. I'm not going to bottom for a virgin."

"Virgin?" Toby snorted when Alex's expression twisted into a mixture of anger and disbelief. "I'm not a virgin."

"The hell you aren't," he scoffed. "Move it."

"No."

"_Damn it, Alex!_"

Toby groaned. He felt like crying; he was practically falling apart and if Alex didn't hurry up and do _something_, he was going to finish it himself, with or without the little fucker.

"Alright, alright, fine," he snapped and shifted, grudgingly spreading a little further. "But if you don't start moving _now,_ I'm going to cut off your dick."

Alex moved.

Toby's mouth dropped open in a silent cry and his back arched off the bed. _Guess he used some spit after all. _His fingers curled loosely into the sheets, squeezing his eyes shut.

He moved awkwardly at first, and Toby got the feeling that all of this, not just being with another man, but the whole sex thing, was pretty foreign to him. After all, Alex had died, he was just this virus now. A virus with human tendencies and with the pressing urge to _feel_, but a virus nonetheless.

Was he doing all of this just by instinct? He almost laughed-would have-but Alex, purely by chance, had twisted and hit _something _in Toby that had his eyes flying open and hips bucking almost violently up against Alex.

He felt Alex pause above him and he cut his gaze to lock with vibrant, pulsing blue, about to verbally rip him to shreds-why the _fuck _are you stopping?- but swallowed his words at Alex's expression.

Alex blinked, disbelief melting into apprehension into wicked intent and Toby snapped his mouth shut, pointedly tearing his gaze away and choking back a moan as Alex started pushing into him again, harder and a little faster than before.

He was intentionally hitting the same spot again and again, driving Toby down into the mattress and smirking when it became obvious just how hard it was for Toby to stay silent. He fisted his hands tighter into the sheets, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. Alex shifted and thrust roughly into him, and Toby tilted his head back, mouth opening as he breathed out jaggedly, the heat and pressure building and building until he thought was going to burst. His throat ached from stay so silent, but he refused to make a sound.

Alex licked his neck. "I want to hear you," he hissed, emphasizing his words with swift jerk of his hips. "You know you want to, Toby."

Toby gasped and squirmed, feeling his very skin burn with each breath. "N-No way in hell, bah-bastard." He didn't think he could last much longer.

As if to prove his thoughts true, Alex reached between them and took him in his hand, pumping once-swift and _God, he was going to go crazy_.

"_Ah_!" Toby trembled and he could practically _hear _Alex's smirk. He narrowed his eyes on Alex and found that, yes, he was smirking, and he looked rather proud of himself, too. His hand started to move. Toby's eyes rolled.

He could almost taste the challenge he had unintentionally declared to Alex, and he knew he was going to lose. Badly. In a futile attempt at not giving Alex what he wanted, Toby threw a hand over his mouth and bit into the skin. _Oh fucking christ-shit_.

Actions and feelings blurred into an all consuming ball thrumming in Toby's core and he writhed beneath Alex, losing the fight completely and moaning low and helplessly, hands flying over his head and gripping _hard _into the headboard because _God_ Alex wasn't holding back anymore and Toby was positive that, fuck yeah, he was going to go insane, no doubt about it.

His world exploded in a sea of blinding light. Alex thrust a few more times before shuddering out an uneven breath, eyes wide and glazed over, and arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

Toby blinked, the image burning itself into his mind for as long as he lived. Alex looking lost and confused and exposed in a way that wasn't meant for people to see-though _he_ had.

Just before Alex rolled off him, just before he lost consciousness and would later wake to see Alex asleep for the first time and touch his face in a way completely opposite of the violence he usually offered, Toby found himself wondering if Alex was maybe, possibly, more human than either of them had been led to believe.

* * *

**A/N: **Ugh, jesus, that took forever. Alright well I hope you guys liked it, lemme know.

Now for a special thank you to _Joveesia_, who helped me through practically everything in this chapter. Thank you so much! This wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her, so go check out her stuff (which is amazing) and leave her awesome reviews :D

Last chapter is coming up next! Not sure how I feel about that yet, this story has been like my little demon-child that I've grown to have a love-hate relationship with. Hmm. Anyway, set up a DeviantART account if anyone's interested, link is on my profile.

Review if you like Alex!Smut!


	10. Part III, Chapter X

[PROTOTYPE: Sanctum]

Part III, Chapter X

_Downfall, fall! - _Trust Company (Downfall)

**oOo**

Mark was dead.

Two bullets; one to the head, one to the stomach.

Toby could see the body of his baby brother surrounded by a few others from the rooftop Alex had left him on. He didn't know where the other man had went, didn't much care at this point, all he could think was, _I came back to say sorry, it wasn't supposed to happen this way._

He didn't cry, didn't do anything, really. He just stared. It didn't look like Mark. Mark had always had so much colour, Toby couldn't remember a day in his life when the boy had been without a tan. But now, even from the long distance that separated them, Toby could see pale sickly skin stretched over depleted muscle and bone.

He dropped to his knees and let his hands hang limply at his sides; he felt so numb.

**oOo**

Alex found him like that sometime later, still slumped over and staring, though he was looking up out toward the city instead of down into the courtyard of the base. Someone had come and taken Mark's body and the others away in black body bags and cleaned up the blood.

Toby didn't look back at him.

"You think it hurt?" he whispered. "He never could handle pain. Would rather shoot off his left arm than admit it, but he really didn't like pain."

Alex shifted, flicking his eyes down to where the base was still in an upheaval. The infection was spreading too fast, becoming too unstable. People were starting to go crazy and balking against anything and nothing.

"You know what's funny?" Toby chuckled, though the sound was far from humorous. Alex winced. "He's always hated me, did you know that? I don't think he knew I knew, but I did. I've always known. I'd catch him looking at me, sometimes, and he looked so _angry._ I still don't understand why he did, maybe he didn't either. Just one of those 'sibling rivalry' things, I guess." He tipped his head back and gazed up at Alex with a bitter smile. His eyes were wet.

"Want to hear something even funnier?" Toby's smile grew into a full-blown grin, painful and wretched to the bone; pain screamed from it like a Hunter's roar. "I hated him, too."

Alex watched Toby break-watched a man turn into a little boy. He shed no tears, yet his eyes reflected suffering of such intensity that it was somehow more frightening than tears could ever be.

**oOo**

He found out days later that Mark had been killed by accident. The damn kid had just been running away like Toby had told him, and had ran right into a crossfire. A handful of Marines had apparently been chomping at the bit a little too enthusiastically after finding out the government had decided to turn Manhattan to glass.

They had planted c4 and little pipe bombs all through the base, blowing it sky high. Alex told him that they were screaming about saving their families before they were shot. Cavin had been at the head of the throng. He'd been the first to scream, the first to pull his gun on the officers, the first taunt them in his own tongue, and the first to fall.

Toby couldn't help but smile. Maybe he was better off now; him and Scott both. Mark, too.

**oOo**

Time passed without any real meaning. Manhattan was a skeleton of what it used to be, fumbling around and slowly dying, no matter what efforts were made to kill off the virus. Toby watched it, wondering if he would ever leave, wondering what it had all been for in the end, and just thinking that maybe this is what it looked like to see the world end.

He didn't see much of Alex. The man spent most of his time on the streets, trying-in vain-to piece things back together. Toby figured this was his way of coping with the fact that Dana may never wake up. Maybe he thought that if he could restore the dead city, it would somehow restore her, too.

Toby didn't stop him.

When they did see each other, they met in a collision of hands and tongue and their coming together was rough and fast. It sated the primal hunger, if only for the moment, and then they both went on their way, more subdued and faded than before.

It was nothing more than physical comfort (somehow nastier and more gruesome than the brief fling with Adrian). A way to slap a band aid on their open, festering wounds and declare themselves okay again for a little while. Maybe they were using each other, but did it count if neither spoke up and declared an end?

Toby stopped counting the days and stopped feeling that maybe it would change one day. He couldn't see it happening. They were both empty voids, and that was just how it was going to be.

He was wrong.

**oOo**

Things changed when Alex came back to him and didn't immediately start what they had been doing since the beginning of the end. He just watched Toby from beneath his hood as Toby sat on the couch and watched him right back.

The silence was thick and heavy and Toby eventually broke it, asking what was his problem and what was he even waiting for? Alex didn't respond, only stood and left without a word.

Toby lay on the couch that night, sleeping in fits and starts and wondering what game Alex was playing at.

The next week, Alex came again and, again, he didn't touch Toby. Toby stared at his hands until he heard the door click closed. He didn't sleep at all that night.

It carried on that way for a little while longer, and Toby allowed it, thinking that maybe Alex had finally had enough of him. _Should just leave_, he told himself. _Nothing left here anyway._

He never did. Something always held him back. So he stayed and waited for something he didn't even know he was waiting for.

**oOo**

"Do you know why the caged bird sings?"

"..." Alex turned to look at him over his shoulder, face impassive.

"Never heard of it before?" Toby asked. "It's a poem, by some Angelou person."

"No."

Toby sighed and raised his eyes to meet Alex. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

That night, when Alex left him alone without so much as a whisper of contact, the door was left wide open.

**oOo**

Toby sat on the window ledge, his legs kicking out into open air and face tilted up toward the sun. It was freezing outside, but there was actual _sunlight_ for what seemed like the first time in decades, so he didn't mind the cold so much.

White snow covered practically everything in sight, wiping out the red like it never existed in the first place, and the more he looked at it, the more he couldn't help but laugh. It was just so goddamn ironic, all of it.

And he knew, without even knowing _how _he knew, but it was just fucking perfect, wasn't it? that Alex would be there soon even though he had just left last night with the silent offering of escape.

He would come back to see if Toby had left.

Sure enough, the creak of the door opening and the sound of light, albeit cautious, footsteps echoed through the silent apartment and Toby closed his eyes, lowering his head from the sunlight and just _listening._

Toby imagined he could hear the silent noise of shock Alex made when he saw him sitting there like he belonged; like he wasn't supposed to be long gone by then.

"'_The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of the things unknown but longed for still'_," Toby quoted and cracked a small smile. He turned and watched Alex as he stood in the open archway of the living room, looking indecisive for the first time since Toby had known him.

"I'm not leaving, Alex," Toby muttered, and twisted around to get up. "I get that you don't want me around anymore, that you're probably sick of me-I really _can _understand that, you're not the first," he said dryly, smirking. "But," he sighed heavily and pulled a hand through his hair. "But this is all I have. I can't just leave. Maybe I could have, before...in fact, I know I probably would have, but now..."

Toby frowned and chewed the inside of his cheek quietly for a moment before nodding to himself and striding forward. Alex didn't move an inch when he stopped in front of him, and Toby took it as a good sign.

He reached up and pushed Alex's hood back and pushed his fingers through soft hair, scraping over his scalp and gently fisting his hand at his nape. When they kissed, nothing more than a pressing of lips, Toby literally had to floor himself when Alex didn't pull away from him, but leaned _in _and started working their lips in a painfully familiar dance.

He felt hands settle low on his hips and he eagerly stepped closer, knowing that he was whimpering but unable to stop because it had been _too long, _and fuck, was he desperate for this.

"I can't walk away from this," he murmured against Alex's lips, fingers pushing at clothes and smoothing over skin and dragging Alex closer and closer but it was like no matter what he did he wasn't close _enough_. "Alex..." he begged, trembling like an unstable bomb ticking, ticking, ready to explode.

And suddenly Alex was gone, and Toby felt the space between them like a physical blow to his chest. _First Mark, now you, too, Alex?_

"I never wanted you to leave," Toby blinked and looked at Alex's impassive face, lips drawn in a thin, almost angry, line.

"But, the door...?"

Alex only stared at him, and for just a split second Toby wanted to punch him because god_damn _it, he'd had _enough _of the fucking silent treatment and those stupid quiet stares that seemed like they somehow saw more than they were allowed.

But then apprehension slapped him in the face and he felt guilt and a little bit of dark humour bubble in his stomach.

_Oh_.

"I had a choice." Toby cracked a grin and wiped a hand down his face, covering his eyes in mock embarrassment. "And this whole time I thought you were just trying to get rid of me."

The rustle of clothing reached his ears and Toby's head snapped up, grin widening as Alex toed off his shoes, his eyes alight with a predatory glint that had been noticeably absent for some time. Toby felt his body responding accordingly and without any further thought, he vaulted at Alex and laughed at the grunt the impact forced out of him.

Alex's hands cupped his ass and Toby gave a short, dry chuckle that quickly turned into a breathy moan as Alex used the hold to lift him to his toes and press even closer, rubbing against him. Tilting his head, he let Alex take control of the kiss, barely putting up a fight at all as he forced his hands between them to undo Alex's belt buckle.

He felt the smirk against his lips.

_Still so cocky. _

_Not for long._

"Going to be different this time, Alex," he murmured against his lips before flicking out with his tongue and unbuttoning Alex's jeans at the same time. "'S my turn."

Toby would wake up the next morning with more cuts and bruises and bites than normal, but he'd feel satisfied and _happy _for the first time in a long time, and he'd wonder why he hadn't taken Alex before now.

And Alex would be stiff and snappish, but his lips would be turned up at the edges and his eyes would hold a soft edge to them beneath the fringe of his hair, and he wouldn't let Toby out of his line of sight for more than a few minutes (even if he had to struggle not to limp around the apartment to do so) at a time.

So when he pushed into Alex in the cover of darkness, he tried to put everything he could into the actions, tried to voice what he couldn't verbally say. Not yet. Because it wasn't love. No, it wasn't about love.

But it could be, someday.

He watched Alex writhe and snarl beneath him with each thrust, muscles strung tighter than a snare drum and eyes wild and lips swollen, seeking; hands clutching and caressing and scratching. He huffed a breathless laugh, shocked that all of this, everything, had happened because of some stupid toxin in his blood. Because of the single-mindedness of war and the need to win.

It was crazy, but in some weird, fucked up kind of way he was glad it happened. It had its drawbacks, its moments of pain and suffering, but something _good _had come out of it and he could feel himself healing. Everything would be fine, given a little while, he was sure of that. Because this was _his _place, his safe place-his sanctum.

**Sanctum **- _A sacred or holy place, an inviolably private place or retreat._

End

* * *

**A/N: **...Yep, this will be rewritten someday, I can already tell. I wanted to go into detail with the smut guys, I really, _really _did. But damn, if I ain't all smutt-ed out. Not to mention FF was being a bitch and kept deleting this everytime I fixed something, so now I don't know if I even finished the stupid thing. Tried to tie up loose ends with Cavin, hope that worked out well enough.

Yes, that's an actual poem Toby was quoting and it's a really good one, too.

And, yes, Cavin blew the base to bits, though it was done when most everyone was out on the streets, so no fatal casualties really. (It was just ONE of the bases, and Alex did pretty much destory one in-game, so I figured this wouldn't botch it up too bad. Besides, Cavin need to go out with a bang.)

And we are DONE. Thank you to all that have followed the story and reviewed, and thanks to _Joveesia_ for all the help she gave me and _Keenon_ for the sheer hilarity and persuasion!


	11. Break Me, Fix Me

**IMPORTANT A/N: **HEY GUYS! *waves* Betcha thought this story was over and done with, huh? Well, it is. It's over. But as you know, or should know, Angel Commando has started writing a sequel for it which is epically awesome and definitly worth a read. This is me shamelessly saying do it. Like a form of product placement. Only not. Kinda.

So anyway, to answer the probable, "WTF if it's over why did you post this?" faces I'm sure some of you have on right now, I say this: Because I'm a sad, sad individual. I actually had an epilogue in the works since I posted the last chapter but my flashdrive kind of short-circuited or something last week and I haven't been able to finish it. Which is depressing beyond measure because that thing has six years worth of writing on it. BUT, due to that, and due to the fact that Angel is amazing and lets me get sneak peeks of upcoming chapters (ha, I'm special) it kind of inspired this. And a few others. So I decided that, since I can't finish the epilogue, I'll just do random oneshots, drabbles and mini-fics branching off with Toby and Alex whenever I get froggy. They will in no way interfere with her sequel and you really don't have to read whatever else I post to this fic to understand her plotline. It'll mostly just be lots of porn. Or little funnies. I'm not sure, it's just an outlet since I miss Toby (the little douchebag).

And there you have it. A long and lengthy explanation that could have been said in just a few words. But I like to make things complicated, so suck it. I hope you enjoy this :D and whatever else I throw up here. They will be random and not really related to each other. So...yeah, if you like, leave a comment. OH HEY. Here's a thought, if you got a request, I'll take that too. Even like a word request, like "Balls" and I'll do a drabble/something related to it. I don't know. Please? I'm desperate, all my writing is gone guys. Take pity on me. I need something to do to take my mind off college :'S

* * *

Break Me, Fix Me

Toby/Alex

_You look in my eyes_

_I'm stripped of my pride_

_And my soul surrenders_

_And you bring my heart to its knees._

* * *

If he could talk to Mark one last time, he'd say he's sorry. Toby's not a hard ass He's not even that strong really; emotionally. He's a child in a man's body, floundering around and trying to find his place in this effed up world. Mark was all he'd had, despite the underlying resentment and hate that festered between them. They were still brothers. They were still family.

"Family hurts each other, you know," He'd tell him. "They cut and tear and spit in your face sometimes. But, man, at the end of the day they're still family. Right? I mean, we...we were each others best friends there for a while. 'Course we grew up and apart, everybody does that, but - me and you, what happened, huh? What happened to us?"

Mark would probably just stare at him, waiting for him to get to the point. Toby isn't a hard ass because he's a coward. He pussyfoots around everything and makes it all complicated, gets too wordy when he's under pressure, and struggles to keep his composure when, really, all he wants to do is run. Or make everything simple and shoot something.

He wants to say, "I'm your brother. I'm still your friend. I'm so sorry you died." Wants to fall to his knees and cry, "I'm sorry I got killed you. I didn't pull the trigger, but I might as well have. It's my fault, God, my God, I did it to you. You died because of me and I just stood there and watched." He thinks he would gladly cut his heart out of his chest and offer it up, bleed out at Mark's feet if given the chance. "Please, please, please - I should've stopped you. It should've been me. It should've been _me_."

He thinks, hopes, that Mark would crouch in front of him and cradle his head against his chest. Would clench his hands into his hair and hold him there, let Toby seek redemption that he doesn't deserve and grip tight until his nails scrape his scalp, inflict a little pain to keep him from falling, falling, falling into the abyss.

"I'm here," He thinks Mark would say. "I've got you. No matter what, I've got you."

"I'm gonna fall. I'll die, Mark. I can't die. Don't - don't let me die."

He thinks, can almost feel, Mark press his lips against his ear and whisper so softly, voice rough and smooth at the same time, "I'll catch you."

And then, then everything goes black and he's screaming hard enough that it feels like his throat has been sliced open with glass. So he chokes and writhes, crying out for Mark and light and an end to the agony because he's not strong enough to survive this. He's not strong enough to beat this fear.

"Toby."

_Please please please God please Mark don't do this you promised - _

"Toby, stop it."

_- said you'd catch me where are you why did you leave I can't do this... _

"_Wake up._"

His eyes snap open in the middle of a hoarse yell and he cuts it off so suddenly the immediate silence is somehow louder, more cutting than the dying animal noises he'd been making this entire time.

A dream. He's always dreaming about it lately. Repressed guilt, Ragland said. Toby could have hit the doctor when he diagnosed him, now he just wants to cry and beg for the drugs he refused the first time. When he's this lost, when he's this miserable with memories and Mark's grinning six year-old face in his head slowing dripping into that look of glazed horror with blood running from his mouth and nose...he wants to wrap himself up in the gray haze drugs offer.

"Toby, look at me."

Alex is over him, pinning his wrists. There are scratches and forming bruises scattered viciously across his chest and face, a freshly split lip oozes blood down his chin. Toby whimpers brokenly, unable to stop the shaking wracking through his body, sweating even though he's freezing. He watches as the cuts slowly knit themselves back together. Alex's flashing blue eyes watch him the entire time until all that's left is a streak of red on his tense jaw.

"I...I..." Toby's voice wavers and he shuts his eyes tight. His chest seizes up in pain because how many times does he have to apologize before they start running out? Before they stop sounding like a broken record and become real?

Eventually, Alex backs off and Toby can feel his fingers tingle from the rush of feeling coming back into them. He aches all over. When Alex's inhuman heat fades off him, he rolls onto his side and curls into a tight ball, fighting back the moans. They're used to this. It's happened so many times it's routine.

Toby knows where Alex is going when the bed shifts as he gets up and walks out, knows he's getting a glass of water and Tylenol. Knows he'll call Ragland to report it because that's what he promised he'd do despite Toby's vehement protests. ("They're my nightmares, damn it. He doesn't need to know all the fuckin' details! Just leave it alone.")

Alone, Toby lets a wet, trembling sob break past his lips and the tears burn down his cheeks. Mark's face dances in front of his eyelids, laughing then solemn then smirking then yelling then sad, all swirling like a movie inside his head dragging guilt heavily by the wrist. It's always like this afterward. The dreams leave him torn and ripped wide open, bleeding tears and pain until he just can't do it anymore and he falls into a fitful rest. In the morning he'll be haggard and unapproachable. Alex will probably leave, give him his space, and then return in the afternoon so they can patch things over with wordless looks and maybe a beer. Sometimes something stronger if Alex happened to think of it while he was out.

But this time Toby doesn't want that. He just wants to drown in this, whatever it is. This unnameable and crushing feeling. He wonders, briefly, for just a split second, what it would be like to give up and let it drag him down. He's terrified of it, but to let it all go? To not have to piece himself back together almost every day for the rest of his life? To, maybe, finally, get relief? He wants that. He begs for it.

The door opens and Toby swallows thickly, rubbing his face against the pillow in hopes of drying his face before Alex sees. But of course he notices. His eyes are sharp and calculating as he waits for Toby to sit up and gulp down the tablets and water.

"Thanks," Toby mumbles. He scrubs his face with the palms of his hands and sighs, thumping his head back against the wall. Alex grunts a response and leaves the room again to toss the cup in the sink. When he comes back this time Toby notices how mussed and sleep ruffled he looks. It's almost funny since Alex doesn't sleep much but he can't dredge up the effort it would take to tease him about it. Plus that's one more thing to feel sorry for.

The bed dips as Alex lays back down. Toby closes his eyes and breathes, slowly but surely shaking off the remnants of the nightmare and finding himself again so he can lose it all again the next time Mark blows through his dreams. Barely a minute passes before he feels warm lips pressing against his bare shoulder.

He doesn't say a word, neither of them do. He keeps his eyes shut and shivers, still too raw to do much else. Alex doesn't seem to mind the lack of response however, and he he trails open mouthed kisses up the gentle slope of his shoulder to his neck, nipping at the bolt of Toby's jaw. A hot hand slides across his stomach to his hip and pulls him closer. Toby lets himself be handled, gratefully embracing the distraction and leaning into the too-warm touch, letting himself drink in the heat until it's inside, acting as a balm for the cold sickness that's infected him.

He turns his head, bumping his nose against Alex's and pressing their mouths together in a chaste kiss that quickly deepens, lips slip-sliding familiarly against each other. Toby raises his hands to curl into Alex's nape, tangling with the baby fine hairs there and tilting his head for a better angle, opening immediately at the swipe of Alex's tongue, groaning quietly at the wet heat. He feels himself moved again, tendrils writhing for just a moment over Alex's shoulders as he picks the Marine up and lays him on his back, and then gone the next.

Alex's heat washes over him like sunlight, warming every inch. One hand presses against the side of Toby's face and his stomach muscles shudder as Alex's thumb brush under his eye, wiping away the wetness there and moving to slot behind his ear, cradling him as gentle as any lover. It's disorienting in a way since they've never been exactly soft with each other.

But now...now Toby's feeling want pool between his legs eagerly, feels himself yearn for that generous, placating touch to soothe this pain. He wants, with a burning fervor, to have Alex put him back together instead of himself this once, to fix him in ways Toby can't. He doesn't want control anymore. Not right now, not tonight.

And it's like Alex gets it because he passes a hand through Toby's hair and opens his mouth wider, kisses hungrily but in a way that shows he's not being rough. He's going slow and he's gathering Toby in his arms, swallowing the guilt and blackness tainting Toby's soul. He slides his tongue against Toby's over and over, expertly drawing forth needy noises and whimpers, moving his hands up and down Toby's sides until his legs fall open wantonly.

Alex breaks the kiss but doesn't stop, dropping his head back to Toby's neck and mouthing hotly to the space where his shoulder meets. Teeth bite down gently, just enough to jolt pleasure and need straight to Toby's core. He finds himself canting his hips up and grinding against Alex, pleased to find Alex is just as hard as himself. Quickly, he drops his hands to pull at Alex's clothes until they are gone, consumed, then divesting himself of his own soon after. The skin on skin contact has him groaning again, louder and deeper than before.

He still hasn't opened his eyes. But when Alex licks at the sensitive skin just behind his ear, dragging his teeth over the spot and pulling a full-body shudder from him, he whispers something that makes Toby's eyes flutter open and his throat convulse on a noise that would surely break them both. He wraps his legs around Alex's hips and turns his face to kiss him fiercely, begging without words to be fixed and put back together. Praying for Alex to take care of this, take care of him, if only for these few precious moments.

Alex makes a low noise, hips jerking down against Toby's on reflex, rubbing their flushed and hard cocks together.

"Please," Toby pants against his mouth, flexing his legs tighter. "Alex, _please_."

Alex grunts at the friction and nods once, curt. He reaches a hand between them and Toby can't see what he's doing, but he's almost positive he hears the slick noise of those awful tendrils slapping against themselves, and then they are _inside _him.

"God!" He judders so hard Alex has to brace himself from being thrown off and Toby keens loud and long, unable to stay still at the foreign feeling. It's not bad, but it's weird and he's not sure if he likes it. Thankfully though, it doesn't last long enough for him to figure it out and they finish opening him up, slicking his opening in what would be obscene if it were any other time.

Toby breathes heavily, gripping Alex's hair in his fists as he feels him press against him and push in. He growls lowly at the lance of pain but relaxes as it disappears as quickly as it shot through him. And then there is bliss, blinding hot pleasure, and Alex's breathy _huh_'s washing over his neck in time with his measured, deep moving thrusts that grind so far into Toby it steals his breath, makes him claw at Alex's back for purchase, and tremble and twitch like a nervous colt. It's never _been _like this. He can't even breathe.

"Yes," he gasps, moving in time with Alex as best he can given the awkward angle, unwilling to loosen his legs to give Alex more room to work with in fear of the space shattering him. Alex works with it though, pulling out as far as he can, which isn't far at all, and shoving back in hard enough to jar Toby's entire frame again and again, over and over, deeper and deeper until every exhale is punched out of Toby as shaky, choked grunts. "So good, Alex. Fuck, don't stop. Don't stop."

Alex nips at his shoulder sharply and licks back over it in silent apology, stretching out over him like a lazy cat. He wraps a hand around the back of Toby's knee and lifts it up over his shoulder. The new angle somehow manages to let him in even deeper and suddenly the sounds falling from Toby's lips are shouts and curses, pleads and praises; desperate in every sense of the word. Toby feels his toes curl as Alex's pace becomes erratic, stutter-stopping as the threat of an orgasm becomes more real, roaring a dull throb at the base of Toby's skull.

He thinks he could come like this, with nothing more than Alex taking him. But then Alex leans down even closer until Toby's throbbing erection is trapped between their stomachs and rubbed maddeningly with every thrust. He moans Alex's name pitifully, warping it to sound like a benediction, and Alex purrs his approval.

He's so close. The jolts of white-hot pleasure sparking through every part of his body each time Alex hits the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside is insane. Each thrust shoves him further up the bed until he has to throw a hand up and grab onto the headboard to keep himself from being flung off into space. He grabs Alex's face with his free hand, pulling him up and kissing frantically. It's hot and sloppy, both too focused on the pleasure scorching between them to do much more than suck in breath after breath between kisses.

Toby tilts his head back and bares his teeth at the ceiling, writhing and sweaty and _God yes _this is what he wanted. He feels Alex bury his face between his neck and shoulder, shuddering all over and making delicious noises that almost sound painful under his breath. A handful of thrusts and Alex seizes up, every muscle drawn taught and making his back arch as he comes, hips slamming into Toby of their own volition. And then he's slumping, barely keeping himself upright on his elbows, breathing hard against Toby's neck and Toby whimpers, aching and wanting and needing with a animal-like edge.

"Alex," he begs, twisting and shaking so hard he thinks he might jump out of his skin. Alex shifts, but he doesn't pull away. Instead he grabs Toby by the hip and back of his head and hauls him up onto his lap with Toby's legs on either side of him and Toby nearly yells at how it feels so good and right, at how even though he can feel Alex becoming soft, he still _right there_ where he needs him. A wet tongue licks up the column of his throat to his chin and those words again are whispered in panting breaths against his mouth and Toby is coming harder than he has in years - possibly ever.

His vision explodes in white, every nerve ending feels alive and dangerous, searing him inch by agonizing inch, merciless. He's vaguely aware of shouting, of clinging to Alex like a girl, and he's ashamed for only a second before he lets himself get swept away on the waves of the hurricane-like orgasm. Alex lays him back down and pulls out, causing a barely-there twitch from the over-sensitized chafed skin. He stares listlessly at nothing, throat convulsing around he doesn't know what; words, spit, he doesn't care. He's suffocating in the best ways possible.

It's a long time before he comes back to himself, and when he does, he immediately reaches out for Alex, sighing in relief when his hand touches too-hot skin. Alex mutters something low and sleepy sounding but doesn't push Toby away when he moves closer and buries his face against his shoulder. When Toby opens his eyes, Alex is staring passively at him, seemingly indifferent aside from the slight concern darkening the depths of his glacial eyes.

Toby doesn't say anything, just breathes in and out so slowly, and shuts his eyes again, relishing in the way Alex wraps his arms around him and holds him close. They don't cuddle, it's not their thing. In fact, there is hardly a meaningful touch passed between them that isn't immediately followed by a harsh word, but...but now Toby kind of sees what he's been missing out on. Because this? This feels nice. To be comforted.

He opens his eyes again and traces a finger over the knife of Alex's jaw, pushing his hand into his hair and kissing him lazily, drunkenly. Minutes pass with nothing but the wet noises of their lips moving against each other, tongues tangling in careful, indulging strokes. There is no battle for dominance, just comfortable pleasure. No heat, no rising and wild carnal need. Just warmth. Just them.

As he falls asleep, Toby hears those words softly repeated again and again in his head, a gentle promise from a rough and fickle runner -

_"I won't let you fall."_

- and he dreams, blessedly, of nothing for the first time since Mark died. Somehow, the guilt isn't so heavy anymore.


	12. Juice, Prayer, and Blame

**Title: **Juice

**Prompt: **Battery (electric, war or assault. I chose electric. I think.)

**Rating: **PG-13 (for Toby's mouth)

**Timeframe: **Before the events of _Sanctum_

The first time Toby met Cross he was out in the lot with the Humvees trying to look busy with one of the batteries. The Captain was walking through rumored to be looking for fresh faces for his team. Or something. Toby hadn't payed much attention (which Cooper had chewed him out royally for) and was just trying to keep his head down. The tips of his ears were still red from the shame.

He knew who the Captain was immediately - everyone did. The man was pretty hard to miss. Toby felt dwarfed in comparison and quickly, once he saw him striding down the line, dropped his tools and did the sensible thing.

He hid.

It was definitely juvenile and if asked, he really wouldn't have a good explanation other than he just didn't want to draw attention to himself. A part of him cringed at the idea of being on Cross' team; word got around about how ruthless he was. Plus, Toby was pretty sure the Big Boys were assigning the Captain to the ZEUS problem. No one had come right out and said it, but there was a lot of speculation.

Toby really, _really _didn't want to go face to face with Mercer. He'd seen what happened to the guys that did. Throw him in the midst of a couple hundred runners, awesome. Shove him in Mercer's face and he might actually piss himself.

"So, I was thinkin' of - oy, Knight, where the hell did ya go to?" Toby smacked a hand over his face and straightened as Lieutenant O'Connell walked back from the supply garage. Cavin might be a friend but he was still a superior and would rip him a new one if he caught him slacking. And, honestly, Toby really didn't want to go through round two of a lecture - or worse. Cavin's face broke into a wide grin from across the hood of the Humvee when he spotted him. "There ya are. So, anyway, how's about we order us a new battery, yeah? This one's a piece of shite."

Toby fidgeted, scowling. "Sure."

"Aye? What the hell crawled up your scrawny arse?"

"Nothing." His eyes flicked to the approaching Captain. _Don't pick me, don't pick me, don't pick me._ Cavin raised an eyebrow and glanced over his shoulder, following his gaze.

Cavin grimaced. "Fuck me. Forgot about Sasquatch comin' round here. Knight, look busy."

Toby nodded, eagerly going back to tinkering with the busted battery as Cross drew even with the Humvee. He couldn't stop himself from watching the man out of the corner of his eye, uncomfortable and nervous and hoping he was hunched over enough so his name patch was hidden. A feeling of deja vu settled over him at how much it felt like being back at middle school waiting to be picked or dismissed for the kickball team. Only, minus the gangly legs and pimples and irrational fear of a big red ball.

His mouth twitched and he chuckled quietly, distracted, and stupidly let his fingers slip into the depths of the battery. The shock came as such a surprise it hurt more than it would have originally.

"Shit!" Toby's entire body convulsed backwards. His feet collided with the steel toolbox next to the bumper and pitched him backwards onto his ass with a painful thud, scraping his palms on the concrete. "_Fuck!_"

The first thought that came to mind was how he was going to kill Cavin;that battery was definitely _not _busted, goddammit. He now had the friggin third degree burn on his finger to prove it. The second was another curse and blame aimed at Cavin because now he had caught Cross' attention and the Captain was staring at him with a mix of annoyance and mocking amusement. It wasn't a nice look. Toby felt like scum.

"A'right there, boyo?" Cavin laughed, craning his neck around the Humvee to get a look at him.

"Fuck you." Toby snapped, watching as Cross moved on, nose in the air. Or maybe it only seemed that way because he was so tall. Either way, Toby was glad he was gone. "Jesus, I can't feel my hand."

"Aw, want me to kiss it better, baby?"

And again, with more feeling, "_Fuck _you."

* * *

**Title: **Say Your Prayers

**Prompt: **Sandman (I bow to you, James Hetfield)

**Rating: **G

**Timeframe: **Hah. It's an AU of an AU.

The village is silent as the moon claims the sky, relieving the beautiful sun goddess of her duties for the night. Most of the villagers have long since retired to their wives to dine and then to bed. Father Taggart is finishing up hanging thatches of sweet smelling anise inside the church before he, too, seeks rest. Across town, the brothers owning the Mill close up and head home after a long day shearing for the upcoming wool run. Down the main street and up winding through the wood, mothers, fathers and children all wrap themselves up warmly in their beds, smiling with sweet dreams.

A little ways further down the river, a house lays in deep shadow. No candles light the windows and no warm fire burns in the hearth. It looks cold and desolate. Inside, Tobais David Knight, son of the blacksmith, lays with his little hands covering his eyes and face pressed into his pillow, trying not to cry lest he wake his new baby brother.

It's difficult, however. Daddy must have forgotten to heed the Father's warnings again about stringing the pretty flowers on the windows and lining salt in the doorways. It's freezing in the cramped bedroom even with little Markus' warmth pressed against his side. No crickets or wolves echo from outside the cabin's walls. The world is silent save for the rasping whisper coming from the darkest corner of the bedroom.

"_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock..._"

He tries to fight the magic lulling him into sleep. Slowly, he feels himself become warm as his muscles turn sluggish and heavy like pudding. When he turns his head, breath short and deep, two haunting blue orbs glimmer beautifully from the edge of the room, coming closer.

"_...Tick. Tock. Tick...tick...tick...tock. Sleep, child."_

His eyes fall shut.

A pale face exposes itself to the soft light of the moon. It smiles with razor sharp fangs - and then lunges.

* * *

**Title: **I Blame You

**Prompt: **Inception (...I really should watch this movie at some point. I could have gone in a completely different direction with this one but I kind of liked the orginal idea.)

**Rating: **R

**Timeframe: **After/during (doesn't really matter) the events of _Sanctum. _

Alex doesn't dream often, but when he does, it's usually of something not particularly dream-like at all. Perhaps it would be more truthful to say his dreams are more like thoughts and actions he plans to take or have taken or will use to change the outcome of some event he is not too sure of at the time. So he doesn't dream, per se. He thinks. He analyzes. But he sleeps. Or something rather like sleep.

So he is a little surprised and a lot suspicious when hedreams an actual honest-to-god, skin crawling, body tingling _dream_. He decides he likes it, however. Especially if dreams mean this version of Toby, this teasing and cocky man, can do _that _with his mouth.

Liquid heat pools low in Alex's stomach and little grunts are pulled from his mouth with each lick Toby swipes over the red and leaking tip, dipping a clever tongue into the slit and making a loose fist for Alex to thrust his stuttering hips into, deeper into that wicked and hot little mouth.

When he wakes flushed and aching, having been unable to be granted release, to the sound of a car alarm going off a street over, he just barely stops himself from going on a wild killing spree. And only then it's because he looks over at the warm body sprawled next to him, sleeping.

Toby's mouth is open slightly and his lips glisten with a little drool. Alex smirks and promptly decides that there is absolutely no reason why his dream can't become reality and sets upon roughly waking Toby up to take care of his straining problem. Since, really, he caused it in the first place. In a way.

* * *

**REGARDS: **To the lovely Sakura8213 (since I can't reply to your reviews D;) I would hug your face hard if I could. These are obviously the prompts you gave me and I thank you profusely for them. I haven't read _House of Leaves _so I left that one out until I have. But I read _about _it on wikipedia XD and I am very interested to get my hands on it. Seriously, you're awesome. You get a pretend-slash-invisible golden medal for the reviews and ideas. And to the second review, yes that was intentional. I'm a total sap like that :U it made me all warm and tingly inside that you did a second read through :'D Not sure if the data on the flashdrive disappeared, I really hope not. Ben is a douche and I will get him back for this. Also, dear god, the stick man. I was jumping up and down and laughing my ass off at that thing, thank you. It was amazing XD (and just got your PM, never EVER worry about filling up my inbox XD I'm one of those weird people that get excited even over some website trying to sale me something. "Ohmahgawd I'm special enough for you to try and take my money! :'D" is usually about my headspace on it) FFfffffffffff why you disable Private Messaging, I can't thank you properly X'C

**A/N2: **And so that's how this will work. Sometimes they will be longer, like the last chapter. And sometimes they will be short like this, little drabbles and such. So please don't hold out. Anything goes. ANYthing. Also, evil sandman anyone? Heard that legend? Scary shit dude.


	13. Tolerable

**Title: **Tolerable

**Rating: **NC-17 (That means GTFO kids)

**Prompt: **My own sick amusement. Found this hiding six folders deep in my documents, apparently forgotten.

**Timeframe: **After the events of _Sanctum_

* * *

Toby touches the fine skin on the back of Alex's neck and trails it down his spine, careful not to wake him. It's surreal to see him sleeping so deeply with no scowl lines wrinkling between his eyes or lips twisted in a sardonic smirk. He doesn't look peaceful, just...content. He looks asleep. There are no romantic phrases to describe the innocence on his face because there isn't any. Toby's not all that sure he could think of fluffy thoughts about Alex anyway, so just as well. He simply looks like a man taking a rest after a long day scouring through the rotted city.

His fingers move back up to Alex's shoulder blades, freezing immediately when the runner makes a lazy disgruntled noise and turns his back to Toby. Seizing the opportunity, Toby moves closer and molds himself against his back, pressing light kisses against his shoulder and slipping his hand around to his chest, scratching lightly down his stomach into the thatch of coarse hair nestled between Alex's legs.

He smiles, knowing he's got his lover's attention despite there being no outward reaction at all – aside from the slight difference in the set of his shoulders. With deft fingers he moves lower and wraps a hand loosely around Alex's soft shaft, pulling gently and rotating on the upstroke in the precise way he knows Alex likes. Sure enough, in just a few minutes Alex is hot and heavy in his palm, thickening with rushing blood and breath just slightly faster than it was before. Toby chuckles and nuzzles against the soft hairs on the back of his neck, inhaling as he tightens his hold - not enough to chafe, but enough for Alex to feel good.

Toby brushes his thumb over the slit at the top and briefly adds pressure to the sensitive nerves on the underside of the head. Alex grunts and makes an abortive thrust, much to Toby's delight.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

Alex snorts as a form of answer and rocks his hips plaintively, demanding more. Not one to defy orders, however indirect, Toby obliges by tracing the pulsing vein with a clever finger and sliding his hand up and down over Alex, randomly tightening and loosening his hold, all the while mouthing at the back of Alex's ear and leaving soft nips that will eventually bruise.

After indulging for a few minutes longer, Toby stops and removes his hand only to use it to push on Alex's hip until he's on his back and Toby can move over him, slip between his legs and press his mouth to Alex's. An impatient growl vibrates against his lips and he opens to the noise, shuddering at the immediate rough kiss Alex attacks him with in retaliation for stopping. He whimpers and attempts to take back control, only to respectively step back down when Alex grabs the side of his face and neck and turns the kiss bruising, punishing.

"Finish what you started," Alex eventually mutters when they break for air, eyes flashing with lust and cruel amusement. Toby barely stops the grin from stretching his lips. Doing so would give Alex incentive to be even rougher and take what little control Toby was wheedling back. Obediently, Toby kisses and licks down the expanse of skin, dragging his teeth on sensitive spots to watch the muscles jump and shudder under the attention.

The position isn't ideal, but he works with it, his body able to handle the uncomfortable hunch of his shoulders due to so many grueling months - years - being in the military. He's been in worse positions before.

This time, Toby does grin when Alex's fingers push through his hair (it's longer than regulation now. He kind of likes it, thinks he'll keep it like this) and grip tightly, tugging with all the subtly of a stampeding elephant closer to his jutting erection. A sharp exhale of breath punches itself out of Alex's lungs when Toby closes his mouth over the tip and wastes no time before he's dipping his head low, taking Alex down deep until his eyes sting in warning, gag reflex fluttering his throat around the invasive cock.

Alex grunts in surprise at the sensation and loosens his hold a little, fingers stroking over Toby's scalp. Toby squeezes his eyes shut as he starts to bob his head in slow, torturous slides, throat fluctuating randomly when he goes too far down and nearly sending himself into a panicky, coughing fit. But he fights it off until he eventually relaxes and gets used to it.

And then Alex suddenly tightens his hold again and _thrusts_. Toby rears up and away, hacking and struggling for air, rankling at the sound of Alex's low laugh. When his eyes stop watering and clear enough for him to see, he glares down at the runner with eyes of stone.

"Impatient fucker," he snaps. His throat aches from the abuse, making his voice rough as if he's just swallowed razor blades.

Alex merely smirks and grabs himself, squeezes tight for a few seconds and groans throatily in a way that almost wipes away Toby's annoyance in one go, and releases with a breathy noise that sounds frustrated and relieved at the same time, effectively stopping himself from coming. Toby swallows, feeling his own erection sitting hard and heavy between his thighs and feels a little grateful that he'd pulled away when he had, otherwise he'd be swallowing more than spit right now.

"Going to bitch about it?" Alex asks, sitting up and leaning close to flick is tongue over the corner of Toby's mouth. "I'd rather you wait until _after _I've fucked you before you start acting like a spoiled brat."

Toby nips sharply at his lip and presses chest to chest, moving to his knees and slotting one between Alex's open legs, forcing his lover's head back in a tilt to keep contact on his mouth. A groan slips out quietly as his dick rubs against Alex's hot belly. "Why do you get to do the fucking? You know I can make it good..." he murmurs, punctuating the decree by opening his mouth wider and expertly maneuvering his tongue with Alex's, stroking and sliding teasingly, sucking once and cutting the kiss off with a wet smooching noise. "You know you'll like it."

Alex hums and fits his hands on Toby's hips, thumbs burning little circles against the already over-heated skin. "You sound so sure."

"Because I am." He cards his hands through the mess of brown bed-hair fondly, pulling with a muffled noise of impatience, unable to keep himself from grinding his hips against Alex's thigh and stomach. He doesn't want to beg, but he hears himself plead breathlessly, temples damp with sweat and body twitching eagerly at the idea of being buried in Alex's tight heat. "...Alex."

He feels Alex sigh against his kiss-swollen lips and hears the acceptance - never defeat. Hands slide down the backs of his legs. "You really are spoiled. We'll have to fix that."

Hearing the go-ahead in his words, Toby forces Alex's mouth open against his own as he pushes him back into the bed, nudging his legs further apart with his knees and settling between them, fitting his hips against Alex like he belongs there. He stays like that, preoccupied with exploring Alex's mouth in ways he was never allowed due to Alex's prickly nature and refusal to give Toby any kind of leeway.

Finally, Alex growls and smacks him on the ass and mutters, "Get on with it before I change my mind, princess."

Toby smirks and presses a quick kiss to his forehead. "Okay, okay. Damn." He flexes his fingers into the sheets on either side of Alex's shoulders, bracketing him in, and glances down between them uncertainly. "Do you need me to...?"

Alex heaves an explosive sigh and wraps his legs around his waist. "No," he growls. "I don't need it. Just hurry the hell up." His hands brand themselves on Toby's biceps, sliding up to his neck and into his hair, pulling him down forcefully to sear their mouths together.

When he pushes in, there is one moment where Toby thinks he might fly off the handle and scream because holy _shit, _it's tight and it's hot and it's so hard to think clearly. But it feels so, _so _wonderful that he can't understand why, after all the time they spent in each other's company, they hadn't been doing this kind of thing sooner. Because this? This is great. A part of him is miffed Alex has been keeping this kind of experience away from him, but the thought is gone just as fast when he gives an abortive thrust and sheaths himself inside completely.

Alex grunts against his ear, tense but unresisting. His legs tighten as he rocks down against Toby in a way that pulls a strained moan from the Marine's abused throat. Toby presses his forehead into the bed next to Alex's cheek and moves in shallow thrusts, pulling out just a little before rocking back in and grinding, gently tipping their bodies in time with each other. He drops to his forearms, breath hitching.

"_Jesus, _Alex," he chokes. So hot, so tight, so _there_; Toby worries that he won't last long at all, and, fuck, that's just asking for Alex to bust his balls. As if he doesn't get enough shit for acting like a princess, the last thing he needs is for the bastard to call him out on being a true-blue five minute man.

Alex noses against his ear, teeth catching on the sensitized skin followed by a soothing tongue. "Move."

He tries to make a smart comment, tries to act like he's not nearly as affected as he is, but all he can manage his a jerky nod and pull out, snapping his hips back inside hard enough that Alex jerks beneath him and makes a muffled grunt at the force. And, of course, sensing that break in his defense, Toby gathers up as much will as he can and repeats it again. And again, and again, and again until Alex throws his head back and _groans_, exposing his throat to Toby's grinning mouth. Teeth bite and lips suck bruises to the surface and hands pin wrists down to the mattress when they seek revenge. Toby knows Alex could throw him off if he wanted, but he's not, so it means he's actually _enjoying_ what Toby's doing. Which is just fine with him.

Alex's legs tighten, pulling him impossibly closer and Toby grits his teeth, curling his toes into the sheets and _pushing_, going deeper and faster and shuddering under the intense roils of pleasure scouring like flames low in his belly and coiling, tight, deliciously painful and, Jesus _fuck_, sex has never felt so good before. He feels drunk, addicted, noises falling from his mouth unbidden, begging for more – until he realizes that he's not the one those nearly silent desperate _pleases_ and _God, fuck, yeses_ are coming from.

Toby lifts his head (not without effort) and takes in the pleasure-flushed, thoroughly debauched look on Alex's face; mouth open and teeth bared, eyes squeezed tightly shut and neck arched beautifully, twisting from side to side when Toby happens to piston his hips just right, hitting that wonderfully sensitive place inside. And Toby thinks he could get off on this image alone – Alex completely undone and all raw edges and wanting. _Needing_. Because when has Alex fucking Mercer ever needed anything like this? He only takes, only conquers.

When it's over, Toby is nearly delirious from the sensation. They fall over the edge almost at the same time, eyes snapping open and locking in an indefinable moment that rocked Toby to the core. Later, he remembers thinking he's never seen Alex's eyes look so blue.

It is early morning by the time Toby starts to wake, dawn breaking in a fusion of orange, red and gray over the stretched skyline. He feels sated and lazy in ways he hasn't in a long, long time and the realization brings a dopey smirk to his face.

"Don't get used to it," Alex muffles against the bed, and Toby tilts his head to the side to look at him. The runner's eyes are closed but one opens slowly when he feels Toby's gaze on him. Reddened lips twitch slightly in amusement. "It's not going to happen again."

Toby chuckles, voice still raw from Alex's earlier actions. "You loved every second of it." The image of him writhing and moaning is still freshly burned in Toby's mind.

Alex snorts and turns his face away, seemingly going back to sleep. Toby smiles at the back of his head for a long minute before following suit, rolling onto his side facing the door (a habit he has not been able to break even after all this time outside of the military). He is almost asleep again when he feels an arm wind around his stomach and easily pull him back against an inhumanly warm chest, a lazy mouth smirking against the back of his neck.

"…It was tolerable."


	14. Prompt Fills pt 1

**Title: **Housewife

**Rating: **G

**Timeline: **After/during the events of _Sanctum_

**Prompt: **Toby, Alex and human food (Probably not what was wanted, but it's the first thing that came to mind :T)

Alex blinked. The aisles on either side of him were tall and stocked full of colorful boxes, bags and cans in a blinding swirl of bright colors and splashing designs. The gaudy cartoon characters on each were too happy, too smiley, for his tastes. In fact, the entire store was rankling his nerves worse than anything he'd experienced in the past year and a half since the Outbreak.

Damn Toby for getting sick and not able to buy his own damn food for his own damn stomach.

Alex sighed and looked left down the aisle, then right, then back in front of himself. He had been standing there long enough that the brands were beginning to blur together. With a scowl, he snatched a box of cereal at random, a crazy looking bird on the front of it reminded him disturbingly of the Hunters, and made for the front of the store. This was the _last _time he was ever going grocery shopping for the brat.

* * *

**Title: **Wonderful Life

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **After _Sanctum_

**Prompt: **Christmas with eggnog and tinsel

"It's like milk, Alex. You've had milk before and you liked it." Toby hides a snort at the dubious look Alex gives him over the rim of his mug. "God, you're such a pussy."

Tipping back his own mug of eggnog, Toby drains most of it in one gulp. The recipe is something his mom used to make all the time back on the farm, but never allowed her boys to drink until they were older. Of course, they snuck some anyway once they turned thirteen and onward, but she never knew. Dad might have suspected since a good portion of the rum went missing every Christmas. He never said anything though, and neither did they.

The thick sweetness of the drink is cool and sends a pleasant buzz through his system; can already feel himself getting drunk after one serving. Too much rum, apparently. Just the way he likes it.

Toby chuckles and tips the rest of it back before leaning on the table, smirking across at the glaring runner. "What?"

"Lightweight," Alex says, and drinks from his own cup. Toby watches, fascinated by the smooth throat bobbing invitingly before his eyes. When Alex finishes, he puts the ceramic mug back on the table and crosses his arms. "These traditions are ridiculous."

"Yeah," Toby mumbles and shakes himself from the drunken stupor he was steadily working into. "Yeah, but people do them anyway. It's fun." He grins and pushes himself from the table. "Come on, I'll show you another."

Instead of arguing, Alex gets up and silently follows behind him to the living room. It's still snowing outside when Toby passes the window, and the power has been out for a good couple of hours now. The candles Toby dug out from the closet are burning pretty low and he wagers there's still maybe an hour, probably less, left before they burn out and throw the flat in darkness. The howling wind outside doesn't really cheer up the place, either. It's a sucky Christmas so far since there are haunting memories where family should be and it's cold and dark and getting worse, but he has Alex and, well. It's not _all _bad.

"Give me a second, I had it here somewhere. Can't see for shit in the dark," Toby grouses, bending to peer behind the couch for the piece of mistletoe he'd found on the sidewalk. More than likely the thing had fallen off someone's Christmas wreath.

Behind him, Alex shifts and chuckles. The sound is so strange coming from the runner that Toby straightens in hopes of catching a glimpse of a rare grin. "Looking for this?" Alex smirks wider at the surprised look Toby gives him as he curiously spins the tinsel between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah – " Toby stops talking immediately when Alex's mouth covers his own, instead choosing to melt into the warm touch. He feels Alex's chest vibrate against his own when he chuckles, arms winding low around his back and pulling him in even closer. He can smell the leather of Alex's jacket and the muted, spicy, scent of his deodorant.

Alex breaks the kiss, not protesting when Toby noses along his cheek and sighs, dropping his forehead to his shoulder. "Bed?"

Toby nods. "Bed."

* * *

**Title: **Heartbeat, Steady

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **After_Sanctum_

**Prompt: **Dana dies, Alex grieves, and Toby comforts

He isn't surprised, really. The reality had long since set in that, given the situation, the chances of Dana surviving were slim to none. Ragland had warned him. Common sense had warned him. Hell, even the internet had given ample information on the probability that Dana would not make it. He believed he had prepared himself enough, if not fully, for the moment when he was told that Dana Mercer had finally passed away.

He shouldn't feel a thing over her death since she wasn't really his sister, but the real Alex Mercer's. That doesn't change the fact that he _does_, though. It doesn't change the fact that it still fucking hurts. He's stopped listening to Ragland and keeps staring at the pale, still body lying on the hospital bed. It's hard to believe someone like Dana could really die.

Finally, the doctor seems to get a clue and leaves the room. The silence that settles in his wake is thick and uncomfortable, pressing against Alex's ears until they start to ring. Seconds grow into minutes and stretch to hours. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He stands by the side of the bed and watches the shadows deepen on Dana's blank face.

He can't even begin to guess how much time has passed when the door opens and someone comes in. From the scent, he knows who it is. The only reason he doesn't turn around and tell the ex-Marine to get the hell out of his face is because he just can't find the energy. He feels frozen in time.

Toby walks up next to him and stands just as still, just as silent, until finally murmuring, "She's gone, Alex."

And maybe that's what he has been waiting for, maybe that's what he needed to hear instead of the apologies and medical jargon Ragland had been spewing, because, suddenly, it's as if he can finally move on his own again. He shudders and turns his face away from the morbid display of peace. Toby's fingers slide against the thin skin on the underside of his wrist, holding gently and pulling him away.

He doesn't need nor want comfort for something that isn't his in the first place, yet he takes a small measure of stability from the solid, human body next to him. It's enough.

* * *

**Title: **Foot Soldier

**Rating: **R for language. Military men, what do you expect?

**Timeline: **Before _Sanctum. _Had fun finally giving Toby an MOS.

**Prompt: **Toby rescues a kid.

"Bailey! Get me the pliers – under the fucking seat, where the fuck else would they be?"

Toby struggled to hold the little boy in his arms still, wishing he would just stop crying and calm down. It was making this so much worse.

"Hurry up!"

"Fuck you! I'm going as fast as I can. Who the hell packed your shit up anyway, a haji? I can't find anything – got 'em!"

Toby quickly snatched the tool from Scott's hand as he came sprinting back up. Dropping them, he cursed, fumbled with the boy kicking and screaming in his arms, and used his teeth to tear off the thick gloves on his right hand. The left stayed locked around the boy's shoulders.

"Get back! Tell the LT to get everyone out of range, Scott. I got this."

"It's not going to last that long – "

"Let me do my fucking job!"

He grabbed the pliers back up as Scott, swearing like the Marine he was, turned and fled back to their Humvee waiting on the next street over. Blood roared in his ears as he looked back down at the wailing boy in his arms, the thick cords and plastic of the IED locked around his heaving chest seeming even more oppressive in its size. The timer kept counting down.

Despite the adrenaline slamming in his veins, Toby's hands were steady as he pressed the boy into the dirt and used the pliers to cut through the restraints. He couldn't deactivate it. It was operated by a device, already punched in, cell phone probably. Not enough time. Had to save the kid. Not _enough time_.

The mic in his ear hissed with static as the Lieutenant came on. "_Knight, you listen to me. Get out of there right the fuck now. I'm not letting one of my men die in this desert, aye? How copy?" _

Toby grit his teeth. Almost. If only the kid would stop fighting him. No matter how many times he tried reassuring him, he couldn't speak the language, didn't even know one word. The boy probably thought he was trying to make the bomb detonate faster. Fuck. Fuck this whole place.

"_Soldier, I gave you an order! It's too late, do ya understand? That thing is going to go off in your feckin' face if ya don't get your sorry arse back to your squad! How. Copy."_

Toby ripped the mic from his ear and threw it away roughly. "Solid copy, sir," he muttered, and bent back over the boy. There, despite all the thrashing and scratching and kicking and screaming, his pliers were almost…right…there! Got it. He cut the last cord away and shoved the vest from the boy's juddering body, grabbed him up, and took off running as hard as he could pump his legs over the uneven road.

When the explosion hit, he wasn't prepared at all for the blast. There was enough force behind it to knock Toby off his feet and send him spinning, reeling over and over with the small body trapped between his arms and chest. He felt sick and disoriented, ears ringing, but he was alive. And so was the boy, thank God. He could hear the muffled sobbing despite being deaf to everything else.

He hurt, and he lay there eating dirt and sand, but the kid was alive. That's all that mattered.

* * *

**Title: **An Arm around Your Shoulders, Fingers on Your Lips

**Rating: **PG

**Timeline: **After _Sanctum_.

**Prompt: **Alex finally gets around to saying "I love you".

Those eyes, you think. Those eyes are your undoing. He has more power than he knows, and it scares you sometimes since the loss of control is something that means your destruction, the end of your determination and convictions. Those eyes hold something precious and untouchable, a promise wrapped so prettily in glowing, cat green eyes. Dangerous. He's so dangerous.

Funny that you fear a human, and yet allow him to embed himself even further into your borrowed – stolen – life. What does that say? Self-destructive, even now, after everything that has happened. Should've learned better by now.

He blinks slowly and smiles, murmuring something. You hear him, respond with equal intimacy, another thing you never allow yourself to do, but he changes those rules. Every time. He laughs – a low sound that vibrates against your bare chest and that shows his a hint of teeth. You like it when he smiles like that. His hands trace invisible lines on your skin, coaxing with the pretence of asking you to relax when in reality it's a command. You obey because you're hopeless to do otherwise. You thread your fingers through his dark hair, so soft, and watch the contentment on his face by the glow of the rising sun.

You've never loved before, never wanted to. But you are beginning to understand that it isn't about want, it's hardly about need. It's about something deeper, a yearning for an emotional connection, a hope that someone will hold and care for you without questioning your bloody past and viral existence. It's a strong urge to possess someone in all the ways no one else has, claim and own, but not like slavery. It's sweeter, gentler. It's humble. The craving is strong and warm, deeply rooted inside your stomach now. Has been for some time, though you have been unable to put it into words. Until now, maybe.

He calls your name, so softly, amused by how you've zoned out. His fingers touch your lips a beat for his smile does. You open for him, tentative. He kisses slowly, lazy with it. He takes his time and you let him, open up for him. It's so strange to hesitate, to be cautious, and he senses it. When he pulls away, he looks worried and murmurs your name like a question.

Those eyes again, so green. So vibrant and beautiful, too beautiful for a man. The words are out before you can swallow them back. Yet you feel no fear. It's the easiest thing in the world.

I love you.

* * *

**Title: **The True Measure of Knowledge

**Rating: **PG-13

**Timeline: **During _Sanctum._

**Prompt: **Toby watches Alex do something really gruesome (dismembering?) and doesn't know what to think about it afterward. Conflicting emotions.

It started as a simple stroll out in the open, a chance to give Toby some air. It is a nice change from being stuffed up in the safe house with nothing to do but watch flies beat themselves senseless against the window panes and feel a weird sense of camaraderie with them since, yeah, he knows how that feels bro. Toby never imagined it could go so wrong, though. Granted, going out anywhere with Alex is inviting trouble since things are still very much on the ropes with the whole Outbreak.

Still, he didn't expect this.

The woman keeps screaming and clawing at the writhing biomass wrapped around her neck, spitting threats and pleads like she can't decide which will save her in this kind of situation. Her legs kick back and forth so hard her high heels go flying and bang loudly against the dumpster next to Toby. He flinches.

"They're going to find you, Mercer! They know where I'm at and they're coming!" she wails, sinking her lacquered nails into the black and red mess holding her above the ground. "Let me go, my baby, don't hurt my baby!" Toby looks at Alex and clenches his teeth at the impassive, almost bored look on his face. The woman, Margret her Gentek nametag reads, starts choking on her own tears.

"Alex…" Toby says, taking a step forward. He doesn't get the chance to say anymore.

"They don't care about you. You're just another pawn to them," he murmurs, so quiet compared to the woman's screaming. "Tell me what I need to know." She spits in his face.

Toby has seen things during his time in theater that are far worse than this. He's killed and he's been shot at, he's gotten up close and personal with the enemy in such a way that the only way to survive was to use his bare hands on them. He's seen blood and guts spill from friend's stomachs, and heard grown men cry for their mothers as they slowly bled out in his arms. He's seen horrible, disgusting, terrible things and even been a part of them.

But when Alex starts tearing the woman apart like some fucked up plastic Barbie doll, he feels his stomach roll and the bitter taste of fear coat the back of his tongue. Somehow, this kind of torture is worse than anything he's ever experienced in his entire military career.

The woman's screams get impossibly louder and wild, desperate. It makes Toby's skin crawl and want to run from how animal she manages to sound. No one will come to help, though. The city's people have learned well not to rush toward screams – the monsters are usually elated to have more prey when they do. The sick feeling in his stomach gets even worse.

It's over quickly, though to Toby it feels like hours. The alley is painted with sprays of blood and littered with limbs, bone, cartilage and visceral matter. It smells like a goddamned battlefield. Toby breathes through his mouth, trying to ignore the metallic taste in his mouth, and roughly looks away from the torn, dismembered body in front of him. Alex stands silently next to it, barely twitching as the biomass retreats back into him.

"We're leaving," he says, and turns as if nothing happened. Toby watches him go.

"You didn't consume her?" He meant to make it a statement, but he's so confused that it comes out a question. Why should he care anyway? Because it wasn't normal, because she was pregnant, and he can still see her engorged stomach looking like an abandoned mound in the middle of the alley, void of arms and legs and a head. It's not right.

Alex doesn't look back at him, just keeps walking. Toby feels doubt settle heavily in his stomach, rolling with the nausea. It's not _right_, that sadistic…thing he saw attack that woman. "Not hungry." Alex says, and the smirk is evident in those two simple words.

Toby retches.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to _Kallios the Scholar, _I got smacked with some awesome prompts. A LOT OF AWESOME PROMPTS. These aren't even half of them lol, I'm still working through them all, but I decided to go ahead and put these up to show I'm not KIA yet. I loved the prompts she gave me :3 I can't wait to get started on some of them. Heads up for next prompt dump, there'll be smut in it. Two prompts, if I remember correctly.

_Sharingan-Youkai_ gave me a prompt too, which I thank you kindly for. She has started her own Prototype fic that will include slash called Who We Are, so for those who are interested, I highly recommend it. The first chapter is up and I adored it! MMF. It's sooooo good, seriously. So read that shit.


	15. A Normal Life

So. While I was gone playing soldier I had a little fun with my own soldiers. Many endless thanks to my twin, Angel Commando, who kept me sane through all those months with loving reminders of our faggots and for the fun snippets we traded back and forth. Probably would have died without her support, among notable friends and family.

This was an attempt at giving Alex and Toby a shot at normal lives with real people problems. Meh. It was fun. Hope it was worth it! And, yes, I am back from training now so I'll be ATTEMPTING to update things. Keyword 'attempting' there. Patience is a virtue, kiddies. It really, really is.

* * *

A Normal Life

The apartment was silent when Alex stormed through, not bothering to kick off his boots or hang up his jacket. The snow from outside blew in around him and spilled across the floor. All of the lights were off. The T.V. was a black screen. Even the radio in the kitchen that they kept on all the time was powered off. It looked like no one had lived there for at least a week - and that was exactly the problem.

Toby was gone.

_"Don't bother coming back, you fucking bastard."_

Alex stood in the doorway, eyes scanning the front room and the part of the kitchen he could see through the archway. Empty. Slowly, he closed the door and dropped his work satchel by the welcome mat. His senses were on high alert, expecting at any moment for the ex-Marine to come stomping into view ready to throw something at Alex's head. Again. The first time he'd done it, it had been a salt shaker and they had been arguing about whether Toby should take a job as a mechanic downtown.

The autoshop was in a bad district and Alex didn't like it, so naturally he'd said no and Toby was expected to simply agree and find work somewhere else. There were plenty of jobs available around the city anyway, despite Toby's protests saying otherwise. The arguement had escalated to a yelling match, something Alex had never done before, ever, but with Toby anything was possible. Alex had barely gotten the words, "Stop being a little bitch and just do what I say!" before Toby flung an expensive, _heavy _piece of kitchenware at Alex's head and shouted back, "Go fuck yourself! I'm a grown man, I don't need you telling me what I can and can't do like I'm some damn kid!"

By the time Toby had left the apartment, hackles raised like some feral animal, Alex was left standing with his tail between his legs doubting that the pleasant, easy going man he had met at Dana's cancer charity marathon some months ago even existed and instead had been body snatched by this tempermental ex-Marine who managed to get Alex hot and bothered with just a curse and heated glare.

_"I won't be here when you do."_

They had had their issues, just like any normal couple. Alex was stubborn to a fault and expected everyone to do exactly as he said, when he said, how he said it, at that exact moment without any reservations. He was possessive and dominant to the extreme, believing himself to always be right and feeling compelled to hold anyone he considered close under his thumb. He liked control.

Toby was a wild child. Alex hadn't noticed at first, decieved by the man's charming smile and comfortable attitude, but every now and then Toby would slip up. He didn't like his life dictated, balked at every turn if Alex tried to leash him, and blew up like a volcano if it were even suggested he listen to reason. He barreled through life with the single goal of self-destruction ever since his medical discharge from the Marines.

Their personalities clashed so hard it was a wonder all of New York hadn't yet crumbled in the fallout of one of their fights. They went at each others throats like only men can, they aimed to hurt, to kill and maim. Their friends and families worried about the destructive nature of the relationship - but despite all the bad, there was some good, too.

Like if Alex had a hard day at work, stressed to hell and back from the pharmacutical company he slaved for pressuring for results, results, results that his team hadn't had the time to produce properly, Toby knew. He just knew, without Alex even saying anything, and he'd hand him a beer and relinquish his favorite seat in the Lay-Z boy for Alex to sit in, and he'd cook something amazing.

It was the only times he ever attempted anything in the kitchen, but despite his near-obselete knowledge of what they kept in the cabinets and fridge, he always managed to fix a meal that eased the stress Alex suffered, and then would go through Alex's papers and solve the formula that just wouldn't come out right. Because Toby was smart when it came to science, despite what everyone thought. Only Alex knew. It was their secret.

Even if Toby had a bad day, Alex knew exactly what to do to fix it, because they just worked together like that. They fit. Despite the pain and the fighting and the frustration, they worked.

Until they didn't anymore, apparently.

_"Don't call me again. I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you. If you come near me, I'll kill you. You hear me? I'll fucking kill you." _Click.

Alex walked on near silent feet down the hall to the bedroom they had shared for the past three years. It was immaculately clean, the bed made and furniture polished. He knew without having to look that Toby's clothes were gone from the dresser, his shirts absent in the closet and his shoes nothing but a bare space under the rack of hangers.

Their last conversation was on replay in his head as he stared at the bed. It had never been made. In all the time they had been together, they had never bothered to make the bed. Why make it when they would just mess it up again in the three seconds it took for them to clash and roll between the sheets?

Alex grit his teeth and glared hard enough it was a wonder the comforter didn't set aflame. Without a sound, he turned from the room and slammed the door behind him. Toby was gone, Alex knew that, but he could still smell him on everything and it was pissing him off even more than he had been before. The living room was dark and quiet as he snatched up the landline and called his sister.

"What did you do?"

Alex sighed irritably and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hated it when his sister knew something was wrong before he even said anything. "Where is he?"

She was quiet, which meant Toby hadn't mentioned his leaving to her. Yet. "I haven't heard from him. Did you have a fight again?"

"If he calls..."

Dana heaved out a breath, as if she were dealing with squabbling toddlers instead of her grown brother and her brother's lover. "Yeah, I know. Fine, whatever. I swear to God, Alex this is ridiculous. What happened?"

He hung up and faced the empty apartment. What happened, indeed.

2.0

Mark didn't question Toby when he showed up at his door at two-thirty in the morning with a duffle in one hand a backpack in the other. He just stepped aside and let him through, holding on to Rocket's collar as the black lab strained to jump Toby and shove his cold nose in his ear like he had been doing since the boys were preteens. The dog was old, but still acted like an excited little puppy.

"Bed's ready for you," Mark said, gesturing at the stairs that led to the spare room. "Try to be quiet, man. Grace is asleep."

"Does she know?" Toby rolled his eyes at Mark's wince. "She's going to be pissed."

"I'll handle it."

"Will you, Mark? Will you?" Toby grumbled, frowning and gripping his bags tighter. "She's going to be bitching like crazy."

"Like you have any room to talk," his little brother snapped back, crossing his arms over his chest. Mark was slighter than Toby, leaner, but his biceps still bulged and strained the sleeves of his threadbare sleepshirt. "I said, I'll handle it." Unlike you are handling your situation, Toby heard. "Now, would you please shut up and go to bed? I have to work in the morning."

"Fine." He patted his leg absent mindedly, ruffling Rocket's graying black ears as they took the stairs on quiet feet and stole to the guest room. It was kind of sad how Toby had run to his baby brother when things went sour, but he had no one else. Despite the obvious dislike he harbored for Mark's wife, he had to suck it up if he didn't want to end up sleeping in a cardboard box out in the streets. He might end up changing his mind, though. Grace really could be a bitch when she wanted to, and she hated every inch of Toby with a passion that rivaled his own loathing for her.

However, for Mark's sake, they had somehow always managed to be somewhat civil until now.

With a grunt, he dropped his bags at the foot of the bed and collapsed into the thick blankets. They smelled heavily of lavender fabric softener, and he sneezed, muttering under his breath about women and their fruity scents as Rocket hopped up next to him and dropped his head on top of Toby's with a deep, canine sigh of contentment.

"You're not sleeping with me, Rock," he said. They both knew it was a lie, because Toby was a creature of habit and he hated sleeping alone. "Get your furry ass off my bed."

Thirty minutes later, the two of them were knocked out without having moved a muscle.

.II.

Toby was sitting at the kitchen counter, shoveling Cheerios down his throat, when Grace strutted into the kitchen the next morning with a feminine sniff of indignation. She had her chin up and shoulders squared, not even giving Toby a passing glance as she wrenched open the fridge and grabbed the carton of orange juice and a cup of yogurt. She slammed her breakfast down on the counter with unnecessary force and turned back toward the cabinets, snatching down a cup with equal brutality and putting it next to her yogurt.

Toby stared at her with his spoon still hanging from his mouth, waiting for the accusations to start flying, Mark had obviously filled her in this morning. She didn't disappoint. Her cup barely had anything in it before she slammed the juice down again and glared at him like he was the scum of the earth.

"You are a selfish prick, Tobias."

He wrinkled his nose and carefully took the spoon from his mouth, letting it clink back into his bowl. Rocket whimpered at his knee and he gave the dog a reassuring pat. "So you've said. Many, many times before, _Gracie_."

The immediate displeasure at the name gave him a small sense of satisfaction. "Yeah, and I'll keep saying it until you realize I'm right."

"Of course you're right. You're always right," he gushed. "Queen Grace is never wrong."

Her little hands clenched into fists on the counter. "Oh, shut-up! You come running here everytime someone so much as looks at you the wrong way. God, it's like _you're _the baby here. When are you going to grow up?"

_When you stop being a bitch_. Instead of letting the biting comment out, Toby rolled his eyes and stood, intending to dump his cereal and leave the house to make it to the garage early. "I don't know, Grace," he said, moving past her to the sink. "I'm gone."

Grace planted her hands on her hips, and Toby's eyes dropped to her swollen belly on reflex. She looked about ready to pop. The image still left him reeling sometimes, he was going to be an uncle soon. His little brother was going to be a dad, and he was going to be an uncle. He shook his head and poured his breakfast down the sink. "I'll pick up some bread on the way back." It was his peace offering, and she could only agree to it. Neither of them had a choice.

"White."

"Wheat's healthier for you." He walked to the front door and pulled on his coat, tugging his baseball cap into place as he glanced over his shoulder at his brother's wife waddling into the room. "And the baby."

"I don't care, I want white," she snapped. Toby almost grinned. If she weren't such a snippy little thing, she could've been beautiful. Maybe he could've liked her. But because they both knew who Mark really belonged to, who he would come to first if shit hit the fan, they were doomed to hate one another from day one. Because Grace couldn't have all of Mark's heart, and Toby couldn't let his brother go.

"Whatever you want."

.III.

Cavin had just opened the garage when Toby pulled in, imperious Shadow gliding through the bay doors with a vicious snarl of its motor. The mechanic raised his eyebrows curiously as Toby revved it one last time. The sound matched his mood, and he just wanted to listen to the angry noise growling out at the world.

"Rough morning, boyo?" Cavin asked, watching with his ever-present rougish grin as Toby swung his leg over the bike to dismount and pulled off his helmet.

Cavin Hayes had been working at Blacklight Garage for the better part of a year now. he had been one of the first employees Toby had hired under himself after wrestling the title from the previous owner. The man was easy to like and good with his hands, proving to be a reliable source for time crunches if the lot started to fill. He worked fast, and more efficiently than anyone Toby had ever met.

It was an added plus that he happened to be pretty damn good-looking. Tall and solidly built with bright, clear green eyes that resembled the beaches Toby had only ever seen pictures of. Seafoam green; constantly changing color just as surely as the tides. And a jaw that could cut glass. he'd heard one of Cavin's many fans, a junior at the local community college, gushing to her gaggle of girlfriends how she just wanted to bite that sexy jawline.

As long as they had Irish, Toby's patented nickname for the man since his lyrical brogue and copper hair blared open testimony to his bloodline, the garage would never hurt for customers.

Toby tucked his helmet under his arm and headed for the office. "You seen Scott yet?" he asked, ignoring Cavin's question in favor of throwing himself headfirst into his work.

Scott was another of Toby's mechanics. Young and handsome in a dangerous kind of way, he was the type women lusted for, but most were too afraid to touch. A real heartbreaker. Between Scott and Cavin, Toby hadn't had to worry over business since he signed the papers.

"Nah," Cavin answered, handing Toby the clipboard that had the printout of what needed to be done that day. "He sent a text. Gran was a wee bit sick so he stayed a little longer to make sure she was okay."

A worried frown worked its way onto Toby's brow. "He could just ask for the day off." They were all very familiar with Granny Bailey and her failing health. The old woman had pretty much taken care of all of them over the years, still as motherly as ever after pretty much raising her daredevil of a grandson, Scott. She would always send a box of cookies through Scott when he'd visit her on Sunday nights and come into work Monday mornings.

Toby always kind of worried she'd end up making them all fat, but they never stopped eating her infamous snickerdoodles.

A few months back, her health took a turn for the worst after a long, hard battle with pnemonia. Her immune system was still weak. The doctor said it was just old age, and there was no cure for that but to make her as comfortable as possible. Scott never showed any emotion over the situation, though Toby could see the fissures starting to crack the man's usual cheerful disposition.

Scott had already lost his grandpop over six years ago, they all knew Gran was the only family he had left. Outside of prison, anyway. The man's mother hadn't been able to stay off the needle since Scott was eight years old. Toby only knew because Scott liked to talk when he drank. It was the only time he ever showed the pain behind the sharp-as-knives grin.

"That's what I told him, but ya know how the lad is," Cavin said, resting his hip against the office desk as they settled in. "He'll work himself into the ground before he faces somethin' like that."

"Yeah." Toby and Scott were alike in that aspect. "You feel like doubling up this week? We could split his schedule, give him some time off to take care of things." He glanced over the roster sheet. "We aren't that booked, anyway."

Cavin chuckled and crossed his arms over his impressive chest. "Way ahead of ya, boss. I've been working his load all weekend." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Toby followed it out the office window to see that, indeed, the Chevy and Eclipse that had been slotted into Scott's schedule sat gleaming in the lot ready for pick-up. Even the busted up Sebring sitting in Cabin's bay, the same car Scott was supposed to be working on that day, was nearly complete.

"Well damn," Toby whistled. "I knew there was a reason I hired you."

"Besides whoring me out, ya mean?"

Toby snorted. "It's a hard life for a pimp."

"Wanker."

The morning passed by slowly, the work taxing enough that it was oddly theraputic and made it easy to forget how Toby's life was crashing down around his ears.

He ended up calling Scott and outright telling him to stay home with Gran, or else he'd be fired. They both knew he didn't mean it though, but Scott didn't call him out on his bluff and did as he was told.

The garage was a mini-beehive as Toby and Cavin worked, the day slow enough that the other guys didn't need to come in. The boombox in the back blared eighties hairbands as the hours passsed, giving the place a pretty amazing Greaser feel. Toby could almost forget.

By lunch, at least half of the load was finished and both Toby and Cavin were literally up to their elbows in motor oil.

"Why don't you take off," Toby suggested, wiping sweat from his forehead with a relatively clean spot on his arm. Even in January, the garage managed to feel like a furnace. "Take a couple hours' lunch. We're making good time."

Cavin cleaned his hands on a rag. His overshirt with 'Hayes' stitched above the left breast pocket was stained to hell and back. "Aye. Want me to bring ya back anythin'?"

"No," He shook his head and pointed at the vending machines. "I'm set."

"Boss..."

Toby shrugged. "Just not hungry, man. I've got a lot of paperwork to do. The Sebring's going to be picked up this evening and I still need to run the diagnostics to get it cleared." Cavin gave him a hard look, obviously unconvinced, and Toby fidgeted with a scowl.

"I just need to stay busy, Irish," he finally groused. "Can you get your ass out of here and go stuff your face so I can do that, please?"

"I knew something was botherin' yer arse!" Cavin hissed. "It's Mercer, ain't it? What did he fock up now?"

Toby had been very open about his sexuality to his employees right from the beinning. He saw no point in lying to them when Alex would be coming around to visit him often, and Toby had never felt comfortable trying to hide who he was. Besides, he hated the paranoia it caused. It was enough to set off his PTSD - something he had discovered the hard way.

Both Cavin and Scott had been fine with the confession. In fact, they had already had a betting pool on when he would tell them, since, according to them, they had already known. Cavin had won the bet only because Scott had wagered Toby would first admit to being an underground exotic male dancer.

"You've got the body for it," he had joked. "And the uniform. Shit, man, all you'd have to do is walk out in your camies and the dollars would start flying."

Toby had never regretted telling the two of them his preferences, but right then, he wished he'd kept it to himself.

"I don't want to get into it, Cavin. Please. Just...just go take a lunch."

His friend scowled impressively, but, after after a tense moment, gave a curt nod and turned for the breakroom to change his shirt for a cleaner one, and left without another word.

Toby sighed in relief as Cavin's truck disappeared around the corner. He gathered his own overshirt, a tattered and grease stained thing embalzoned with USMC across the chest, and pulled it on over his black wifebeater. Distantly, he chided himself on hardly having any clean clothes at the garage. Used to be he'd always have a clean set laying around somewhere, just in case Alex stopped by and Toby wanted to be clean-smelling instead of doused in motor oil.

The thought made him wince and he shook it off, moving toward the snack machines and using a key to simply pop them open and snag a bag of chips and a coke from the selections.

He wasn't going to think about it, it was over. God forbid he turn into a chick now and start whining about it.

.IV.

The diagnostics came up clear and Toby finished the necessary pencil-pushing for the Sebring to be picked up. When he called to confirm the vehicle being ready, the girl on the line thanked him so many times that Toby forgot what 'you're welcome' even meant after repeating it until he was blue in the face. The conversation ended with him nearly begging the woman to just come get her car.

He almost regretted giving Cavin an extended lunch, wishing he was there to deal with the hysterical lady instead. Not that Cavin was much better handling the opposite sex. The man was deceptively shy and awkward if some pretty little thing so much as glanced in his direction.

Toby sighed and scrubbed a hand through his cropped hair. It was definitely out of regs now, almost an inch in length and falling over his forehead. Used to be such a small thing would piss him off. As a Staff Sergeant, he'd been viewed as a man setting the standard and those standards had been upheld with an almost obsessive-like efficiency. Toby had taken the Corps seriously, had lived by the code. He had given the Marines everything short of his soul.

And they had shelved him like a broken toy to gather dust in the dark.

Another irritated sound grunted from the back of his throat as Toby set about gathering the diagnostic proofs and Ms. Nyx's, the Sebring owner, receipt for her to sign. The receipt he stuck in his pocket and the proofs he tried stuffing in the already over-flowing desk drawer that served as a somewhat-reliable filing system.

"C'mon already," he muttered, trying to part the 'red sea' of crinkling papers and folders packed impossibly tight in the small space.

He gave a final, impressive tug...and it all spilled out onto the floor at his feet.

"Fuck! Damn it, are you serious? Fucking perfect. Piece of shit!" He covered his eyes with one hand, so tempted to just throw gasoline on the pile and watch it all burn. He could feel a migraine coming on, pulsing through his temples and behind his eyes. His medicine was still at the apartment, one of the few things he had left behind in his haste to escape. Perfect. Unless he wanted to end up in the fetal position in the middle of the floor, he'd have to get his pills.

Briefly, he considered asking Mark to go for him but quickly banished the thought. Grace's accusations were still ringing fresh in his ears.

He'd go after work, he decided. Alex would more than likely still be out, schmoozing with the doctors and mad scientists the best a socially awkward wallflower could, trying to buy time and sponsers for whatever acid-trip of a project his team was currently working. The apartment would be empty.

The papers were still strewn haphazardly around him in a parody of paper massacre when he dropped his hand. Just great. Scowling, he crouched and began gathering them all up again. There was no hope of keeping them in order now, he'd have to go through the pile again and redo the filing system.

It was going to be a long night.

Toby had just managed to get a decent stack going some time later, when a sudden knock at the office door startled him enough that he flinched backward, catching the stack with a wayward elbow and sending it all tumbling down once more.

He cursed, jerked himself upward, banged his shoulder on the corner of the desk and cursed again. The single picture frame he kept there clattered to the floor with a crunch of glass.

Toby nearly erupted. Would have, had he not looked at the broken picture and felt the fight drain right out of him, his temper suddenly gone.

Alex smiled back up at him, a hint of a thing curling a quiet mouth that could be so vicious when it wanted to be. Toby was there, too. He stood with an arm over Alex's shoulders, grinning like some dumbass kid at Christmas time. Both of them were still gleaming with sweat from the game of basketball they had played, the court visible in the background. Dana, Alex's sister, had taken the photo. Toby remembered everything of that day - it was the day Alex finally agreed that they could move in together.

The knocking came again as he bent to pick the spider-webbed frame up.

"Hello? Is everything alr - oh!" The petite blonde peeking in through the door blinked owlishly, taken aback by the state of the office, no doubt. She pusehd the door open wider and Toby straightened, holding the broken picture in one hand.

"Wow, this place is a mess," the woman said, and Toby nitoced suddenly that her eyes were different colors; one green, one blue. Not blatantly so, but someone could notice if they just looked. And that wasn't the only weird thing about her. Her clothes had enough buckles that he wondered if her outfit had at one time been a safety suit. But it was still stylish, somehow. Almost steampunkish. It worked. In some form of fashion, it just worked. Painfully white bandages wrapped her hands and arms up to her elbows, allowing just enough room for her little pink fingers to stick out.

Toby eyed her warily, hoping she wasn't as suicidal as she looked. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, a bit snappish, but the girl seemed oblivious to his tone.

She smiled brightly and thrust out a bandaged hand. "I'm Keres Nyx, we just spoke on the phone? You fixed my car!" What a name, Toby thought. Was anything about this girl normal?

He hesitated to shake her hand. Keres gave a tinkling laugh and shrugged. "It's okay," she said. "It doesn't hurt. The bandages come off next week." She smiled wider, all teeth. It didn't seem possible for someone to be so damn happy.

Slowly, carefully, Toby shook her hand while he still clutched the haunting photo in the other. At her curious glance, he placed it face down on the desk.

"What happened?" he asked after dropping the shake, redirecting her focus from any possible questions of his personal life.

"I'm not a very good cook," she replied solemnly. And then perked up again almost immediately. "But the doctor said the burns were only superficial, so the scars won't be too awful. So, um, do you need me to come back later?" She gave the hurricane of papers at his feet a pointed look.

Toby grit his teeth and shook his head, corralling her toward the open door. "No, I've had enough of this room, I could use a distraction."

Keres laughed again. "You know, theres such a thing as a computer now. Online filing and stuff like that. Makes less of a mess."

He rolled his eyes and led her into the garage and down to the third station in the bay, the last one. "I don't have the time," he commented mildly, frowning at the silver car parked inside the garage. A young man stood by the hood with his back to them, arms crossed over his chest. Toby was just about to ask who the guy was when Keres sighed and said:

"I told you to wait outside, Michael."

The man turned around to face them. Had Toby not maintained almost perfect control of himself around strangers, he would have flinched in shock.

Scars. They stretched from the guy's left cheek down his throat and disappeared beneath the collar of his deep blue tshirt. Toby couldn't see the man's arms from the long sleeves covering them, but from the way he had very obviously cut holes in the cuffs and hooked his thumbs through to keep the sleeves down, Toby got the impression there were even more gruesome marks hidden beneath.

What was most disturbing, however, was the flat look in the man's eyes. Completely blank, as if the body's inhabitant had simply checked out. Toby tensed. He'd seen enough suicide bombers with that exact vacant gaze enough times to be instantly suspicious.

"A friend of yours?" he asked Keres tightly. She shook her head.

"My cousin. Sorry, I told him to stay outside, but he's been really worried about the car. It was his," she explained at Toby's curious look, stepping forwoard and gently tugging Michael by the arm. "He let me drive and I ran it into a power unit."

Were he not looking at the two obviously insane individuals, Toby might've laughed at Keres' flippant attitude. She acted as if ramming vehicles into giant electrical boxes was a normal, every day thing.

"I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. "Just going to take him back outside."

"No problem." Toby shook his head and went to the check-in counter, snagging the Sebring's keys from the peg-board mounted on the wall behind it. Of all the days in the past three years, Fate decided now was the time to give him a couple of weirdos to deal with. Had Scott had to work with them when the car was brought in? Holy fuck.

Toby was just opening the driver's door when Keres strode back in through the garage door, thick-heeled black boots clomping impressively. He hadn't noticed before how mature she looked. Her childlike face made her appear incredibly young, but looking at her now, Toby could see the curve of full hips swaying and the rise of a decent pair of breasts. She was pretty. Blonde hair, striking eyes, and a nice smile to boot.

But she was still weird, and that made Toby uncomfortable.

He jerked his thumb at the car. "I was going to pull it out front for you. Driving it off the tracks can be tricky if you don't know what you're doing. Might damage the tires."

"Oh, okay. That's fine." She smiled, and Toby wasn't surprised. "I'm sorry about Michael, his meds sometimes hit him a little hard." He nodded awkwardly, not sure what to say in response. Again, Keres seemed oblivious. "He hasn't been the same since his last tour. The therapist said he had PTSD, but he's been doing a lot better lately. Hardly ever screams anymore."

What? Did she seriously just go around telling people those kinds of things? Toby rubbed the back of his neck and edged closer to the car. "That's awful." Really, he meant it. Been there, done that, got the medical evaluation forms to prove it. "I'm just gonna..."

"Right, the car. I'll just meet you out front?"

At Toby's affirmative nod, the spritely blonde turned back the way she had come and left Toby to finally start the car and carefully back it out into the lot. She was waiting for him by the front entrance to the shop, her cousin leaning against the wall next to her staring at his shoes. What a damn odd pair, Toby thought.

"Thank you so much again for fixing the car..." she squinted at the name on his breast pocket. "Toby."

He grunted a 'you're welcome' as he had her initial the reciept and tore the pink slip off for her to have as a copy. Instead of leaving as he had expected, she stayed put and nervously bit her lip. Toby winced. What the hell was going to come out of that mouth this time?

"Was there something else?" he prompted reluctantly.

"I'm a business major at the community college," she blurted, bi-colored eyes wide and earnest. Toby blinked. Keres stammered and had to start again a second time. "I mean, I like office work. I'm really good at it. My professor says I have a very organized and structural strategy working for me."

"Congratulations?" he tried. She flushed and offered a shy smile, and then shook her head.

"Sorry, I'm not making a lot of sense." No shit, Sherlock. "It's pretty obvious you don't have a book keeper and, well, you know, if you're interested, I know how to file via computer. It's super efficient and I'm great with continuous updates and scheduling," she said in a rush.

Toby's eyebrows rose toward his hairline. She was after a job? Sure, the office was in a bit of a state, but he didn't have 'Now Hiring' signs up anywhere. And what made her want to work in a damn motor pool anyway? She was a girl. A cute one, at that. This was no place for her.

"I could save you a lot of time and aggrivation. Please?"

"Ms. Nyx - "

"Keres."

"...Keres. I'm not hiring right now, but I'm pretty sure there are plenty of other businesses that would appreciate your skill set." He added the last bit quickly, alarmed by the wet look in her eyes.

She sniffed. "You don't understand, I've been all over the city. Please, I'm desperate. I don't make enough waiting tables to pay Michael's prescriptions. I'll work hard whenever you need me, I'll even work on the cars. Please, please consider it, at least." She sniffed again and Toby nearly convulsed at the thought of having her by the cars. "He needs his medication, I have to get it for him. He gets so sad without it, and the state will lock him up if he tries - tries something again!"

Toby grimaced, carefully patting her little shoulder as a sob broke through. God, he hated it when girls cried. It was probably one of the worst things in the world. An evil means of torture women knew as a surefire way to get what they wanted. And despite knowing it, men fell for it every time. Or, at least Toby did. Because he was just a damn sucker.

"I wouldn't have you working anywhere near the vehicles," he said eventually, still trying to comfort the tears away.

Keres sniffled and wiped her cheeks with thin fingers. Her reddened eyes looked so vulnerable. She was simply way too honest of a person. "You'll think about it?" she warbled. Toby nodded, huffing in surprise when her small body suddenly wrapped around him in a tight hug.

"Thank you!" she gushed, now crying for an entirely different reason and making Toby even more miserable. "Thank you, thank you! Oh, my God. Thank you."

"Just give me your number and I'll call you tomorrow sometime. Around lunch," he said when he finally managed to extricate himself from her incredibly strong hug.

She nodded her head hard enough it was a wonder it didn't pop right off, thanking him again while she coaxed a silent Michael into the car and quickly scribbled her cell number on Toby's copy of the receipt. By the time she finally pulled off the lot, his headache was pounding with a vengeance and the meager excuse of a lunch he'd had was rolling his stomach threateningly.

Six o'clock couldn't come fast enough.

.V.

By the end of the day, Toby's headache had morphed into a full-blown migraine, and he was skipping out early only because Cavin was threatening mutiny if he didn't. It was near agony to ride his bike back to the apartment. The sound of the motor ripped through his skull like a rusty blade, sawing through bone and jangling his nerves so terribly he feared he might throw up as he sped down the asphalt. By some miracle, though, he made it.

It was a little past seven when Toby pulled into the familiar parking lot and gratefully stumbled off his bike. In the sudden silence, the pain seemed to dissipate. But only for a moment. In the next, he was nearly bent double as the wrenching shocks slammed through his head and sent his stomach churning once more. It had been a while since he allowed himself to get this bad. He hated to admit it, but it was Alex who had constantly made sure he was on schedule.

His hands were sweat-damp and shaking when he reached the door and somehow managed to unlock it, despite all the fumbling. The strongest urge to just kick off his oil-stained work boots and crash on the couch nearly overwhelmed him. He regretted ever leaving, right then. Even though he knew it was because of the migrain, he truly regretted it. Alex could fix him that weird blend of honey, scotch and coffee that made the world move like molasses, and soothe the aches away with deft fingers massaging his temples. He could talk to him - it never mattered what about, just that he was there and he cared enough to stay.

Toby groaned, trying in vain to shake the thoughts away. What help did they offer him now? None.

He groped his way through the short hall into the bathroom, fighting back a scream as the light pierced his eyes when he flipped on the switch. His hands felt too big when he tried opening the medicine cabinet. Why had he ever locked them up like this? Shit. He was going to die.

Oh, God. What if he did die? Here. Right now. Alex would come home and find his lifeless body sprawled next to the toilet. Poetic justice, really; a perfect metaphor of his entire damn life. He did _not _want to be found like that. Not by Alex. After everything he said about not needing him, here he was about to rot away in their bathroom unable to even care for himself.

How pathetic could he get?

The tablets were like sandpaper in his neck as he dry-swallowed them. He could've sobbed in relief, even though the pain didn't ease. It would take close to an hour before he would feel like himself again. He stumbled away from the sink until his back thumped heavily against the opposite wall, and slid down. Alex would find him. It was inevitable at this point. The only problem now was how would Toby handle it?

The problem was Toby just couldn't let it go. Alex, their relationship, any of it. Perhaps he could, given enough time and ample distraction. After all, it had only been a few days. But something soft and small whispered no he couldn't, no matter how much time or how many people he met, or how many hobbies he picked up, it wouldn't work. Alex had ruined him. And the real kicker? Toby had let him.

He stayed propped against the bathroom wall until his eyes stopped feeling as if they were being stuck through with pin needles. He only made it as far as the couch, though, when he attempted to leave. Which he was cool with, he decided. Because if he had to go any further he was going to upchuck pretty spectacularly all over the carpet.

Somehow, he slept. Not for very long, but it was enough time for the shakes to stop wracking through his body and dry the cold sweat he had broken out in. And, regretably, enough time for the familiar surroundings to invade his fitful rest and remind him just why he had left.

To be honest, he should have seen it coming. And even admitting that to himself pissed him off because, how could he be so ignorant? The signs were there. Hell, they had argued about it time and again over the years. But Toby just didn't want to believe it. He wanted to be patient and understanding and give Alex time. That's what you did for people you cared about, right? You did things for them you wouldn't normally do, acted certain ways you weren't used to because that's what they needed.

Well, not anymore. Not because Toby finally grew a pair and realized how naive he was being. Oh, no. He wasn't that sensible. He wasn't that smart. No, what had happened was simply Toby showing up a little earlier to Alex's office than normal for their occasional bar date ( a rare event where they bent to Buster's, had beer and wings, and watched the game on one of the 40'' flat screens mounted on the walls) and taking the man by surprise - as well as his entire team.

Toby had felt pretty uncomfortable standing in the doorway with six pairs of eyes trained on him as if he were some new interesting specimen waiting to be pinned under the microscope.

"Uh...hi?" he had ventured. They were all so...clean. Scrubbed and professionally dressed. Except Alex, leaned against his desk in white-washed jeans and a dark button-up opened at the collar, a loose tie hanging around his neck. He pulled the look off, though. Still managing to look like he belonged there. With _them._ With the uptight conservatives he called friends.

Toby had never seen Alex look so alarmed before. It was no secret between them that Alex was still very much in the closet. No one at work knew he was sleeping with a man, which wasn't that hard to believe. Alex had no social life to speak of outside of work, who would even know? The 'friends' were strictly office aquaintances that, at the very least, got the muted version of the cold shoulder he presented to the world at large. Except Toby. He was human around Toby.

But no one knew, and Toby never told anyone aside from Cavin and Scott who had been pre-approved by Alex himself. And Toby was fine with that. Sure, it bothered him sometimes. But he'd rather have Alex than not, and if that meant being the man's dirty little secret, then fine. It worked out okay.

Until it didn't, anymore. That day, Alex had stared across the room at Toby like he was the harbringer of the apocalypse. Someone asked Toby who he was looking for, Toby looked expectantly at Alex, who looked even more worked up.

Toby said, "Alex?" and the man he had spent three years with, who he had trusted parts of himself no one had ever glimpsed to, who had held him through the nightmares and horrific flashbacks of sand soaking up his buddies' blood and heard his screams and watched him crack again and again under the memories of war, looked at him without any emotion and said, "I don't know who you are. Im in the middle of a meeting right now. If you leave your contact information at the front desk, I'll get back to you when I'm through here."

Toby had only stared at him, stunned. Sure, he expected Alex to deny they were anything more than friends if they were ever questioned. But he had just written him off completely, had denied Toby even existed. As if the past meant nothing to him, as if _Toby _meant nothing to him. He said something back; an apology for intruding, maybe, but more likely something scathing because he could remember some woman getting really offended as he turned around and left, and this conflicted expression playing on Alex's face.

The rage and embarrassment were still burning in his gut hours later when Alex tried to call and apologize. His words only added fuel to the fire, and Toby was seething by the time he hung up. He did what he promised. He went home, packed his stuff, and left. He didn't plan on ever returning, the hurt too deep to repair, masked by the rage he could feel even now boiling in his blood as he opened his eyes on the empty apartment.

But it wasn't empty. It was filled with three years worth of memories, three years of a shared life. It was a blaring testament to just how stupid Toby had been.

Against the wall was Alex's movie collection, stacks of DVDs spilling messily on the shelf Toby had built for him. Leaning against it was the hockey stick Toby had gotten autographed by the entire Red Wings team last year after arguably the best win of the season. Alex's Rangers' jersey. Their keys to the storage unit downtown. Alex's running shoes. Toby's gym bag. The furniture they bought together.

A splatter of white paint against the beige wall from the paint fight they had had their first night living in the apartment together. A crack in the plaster from a door thrown open too hard. CDs, books, magazines, an mp3 player Toby couldn't remember who belonged to, stains in the carpet, knicknacks from all over spread throughout the room without any sense of order. It physically hurt to look at it.

How could Alex have wrote all of this off? How could he have swept Toby under the rug so easily? All this time, Toby had been holding on with a bulldog grip, chewing and choking as much as possible just to make things work, and Alex had only gone along with it like some kind of game. Like he had never cared at all.

Toby squeezed his eyes shut and breathed, forcing it slow and even. He needed to leave. When he opened his eyes again, his watch flashed 23:30 back at him. He had slept far longer than he orginally thought. It was nearly midnight - Mark was probably freaking out. When he checked his phone, the screen showed six missed calls (all from Mark) and four text messages. He scrolled through the texts quickly, wincing as he finally reached the end.

**From: Mark To: Me **

**Recieved at 21:10 **

_Where r u? Call me._

**From: Mark To: Me **

**Recieved at 22:32 **

_Srsly. Where teh fuk r u? I'll call cops._

**From: Mark To: Me **

**Recieved at 22:40 **

_I h8te u so much rite now!_

**From: Irish To: Me **

**Recieved at 23:00 **

_Why are the police at my house asking if I've seen you tonight?_

"Shit," Toby muttered, scrambling off the couch in stiff, jerky movements. His whole body felt sore from lying in the fetal position for so long. Mark was going to kill him.

It took only a minute for him to go back to the bathroom, pocket his meds and make a beeline for the front door. As he wrenched it open, his thumb punched out a quick message to Mark reassuring him that he was fine and he would be home soon, and to call the feds off his damn mechanic.

A blast of cold wind smacked him in the face as he stepped out, but that wasn't what stopped him dead in his tracks.

A heady scent filled his nose and flooded his senses. Sensual, enthralling and altogether masculine. It had his mouth watering in the short amount of time it took him to blink past the sharp winds. A punch of lust so strong it left him breathless twisted low in his stomach like a fist, but with it came a shot of ice through his veins. The heat of his anger was suddenly cold and malevolent.

When he had stepped through the door, his body had been bent into the wind, head ducked to avoid the gusts of snow. Now, he slowly lifted his head and followed a pair of boots spread shoulder length apart up strong legs and a stiff abdomen, to an achingly familiar face. Alex stared back at him from under his ever-present hood, those deadly eyes of his nearly luminescent. Toby had always loved his eyes.

He didn't say anything at first, and Toby felt the overwhelming urge to punch him. But then he did speak, and Toby could only stand there.

"You left," Alex said. Somehow, his quiet voice could be heard over the howling wind. "I came home and you were gone. You said you would never leave, Toby."

Toby narrowed his eyes and straightened, leaving the door open behind himself just to be vindictive. Alex hated snow, hated it even more when it was all over the floor. "You better fucking think about what you want to say to me right now."

Alex's gleaming eyes glanced around them, taking in the dark and the snow with an obvious expression of distaste. When he took a half-step forward, Toby stiffened and gave him a warning looking. They would handle this now, outside. Because if Toby went back in he knew he would possibly break. Again.

"I need to go," Toby snapped when it became obvious Alex had nothing more to say. He quickly stepped around the stoic man and stormed down the steps to the parking lot. He had nearly made it back to his bike when a hand suddenly wrapped around his elbow and jerked him to a stop.

Toby didn't even stop to think, his body moved with the pull just as surely as Newton's law of motion dictated. His fist whipped through the air like a knife and connected solidly with the side of Alex's face. Toby felt his knuckles split on Alex's teeth and he cursed, wrenching his hand back and shaking it out as Alex stumbled back and hit the side of the building.

The cold made the ache in his hand ten times worse, and Toby cursed again. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. "Don't fucking touch me, you bastard! You did this!"

Alex stared at him with those blue, blue eyes. He was cupping his reddened jaw and a bit of blood oozed down his chin from his split lip. He didn't move from the wall as Toby glared at him, chest heaving with adrenaline.

"You did this," he yelled again, point an accusing finger as every muscle in his lithe body snapped taught, coiling with rage. "So don't you _dare _come at me like this was my fault."

"Toby..."

"Shut up! You don't get to talk anymore, you've said enough!" He stalked forward, hating the man before him with everything he had. "I'm sick of your voice. I'm sick of your goddamn _face. _I told you I never wanted to talk to you or see you again, and I fucking meant it, Alex. I swear to God, if I ever see you again, I'll kill you." Alex's eyes flashed like lightening and he lifted his chin as Toby moved into his space with that wild look in his eyes. "I'll watch you fucking burn."

The wind screamed around them, drowning their voices from curious neighbors. A blizzard was roaring in, and fast. The weatherman had broadcasted on the radio that it was supposed to be the worst of the season.

"No," Alex said. "You wouldn't. You can't."

"You know I can," Toby spat. They were nearly nose to nose now, and Toby was proud of himself for not running with his tail tucked like he thought he would. He was stronger than he believed. "What makes you think I won't?"

Alex's answer was simple and blunt, a knife that went straight through Toby's core from the absolute confidence it was delievered with. There was no doubt residing in Alex's steady gaze. There was no hesitation, nothing but cool certainty. "Because you love me."

The wind picked up, blowing gusts of snow in their faces and straight through their clothes. Toby could feel the freezing air in his bones, stinging his nose and eyes. Their breath mingled and heated the air between them into tiny evaporated clouds. Suddenly, Toby could remember all the times Alex's voice would knock him to the floor - or to his knees. The way the man could completely undo him. He had loved him, he had been insane with it at times, had felt so damn lucky to have someone of Alex's caliber. Someone smart and strong, albeit insecure, but still amazing.

And he had gone for a messed up, self-loathing, PTSD suffering bastard of a man who never could seem to get his footing in the world. Toby had never felt so humiliated in his life. He bared his teeth and smacked the concrete on either side of Alex's head, ignoring the screaming pain that cut through his palms as he towered over the other man. Toby had always been taller, broader and physically more intimdating - but Alex was terrifying in his own right. He could kill with just a look.

"I hate you," Toby said. "I hate you so much, it hurts. You put me through hell, Alex. I was happy. I would've done anything for you. I..." He stopped and stared into those eyes and finally understood. He had thought his life was over when he was discharged from the Corps, had believed nothing else would ever come his way because being a Marine was all he knew. He had given it his everything, his very life, only to be cut out because his mind was 'broken'. But, he realized, he hadn't given them everything, not really. He hadn't given them his soul. That, he still claimed.

Or, at least he had. As he looked into those sparking blue eyes though, Toby saw his own soul reflected back. He hadn't given his soul to the Marine Corps because it belonged to Alex Mercer.

"Damn you," he whispered. "Damn you to hell, Alex."

Alex narrowed his gaze knowingly, his lips thinned with the first sign of trepidation Toby had ever seen on the man. He pushed away from him roughly and turned back for his bike before the stinging in his eyes could become something more.

"You said you wouldn't leave." Alex said again. He hadn't moved from the wall, made no effort to reach for Toby again.

Toby kept walking. He didn't look back.

3.0

Toby got his own place.

Well, not really. He moved into the flat above the garage and it was set up kind of like a studio apartment. It was all he could afford, disability wasn't really doing him any favors. Mark let him take Rocket with him for company and, honestly, Toby was forever grateful for it. It sucked being alone after living with someone for so long. It was hard to get used to sleeping by himself. Most nights, he didn't sleep at all, too overwhelmed by the gaping space in the bed next to him to let his eyes remain closed for hours at a time.

He started letting Rocket sleep with him after the first week.

Eventually, he adjusted. Like he knew he would; like he knew he had to. It was hard, but he did it. It hurt. The first few months were hell because it was like living in a constant state of rage and depression. Cavin suggested he talk to someone once because he said it was like watching someone spiral out of control. "I don' like that look in yer eye, boyo," he had said. "Like ya hate yerself. Like you jes don' think yer good enough anymore."

Scott had even spoken up somewhere in the first month, striding into the bay like he owned the place and snatching Toby's wrench right from his hands and ordered him to "stop being a bitch about it and fucking deal. He ain't coming back, and that's just perfect. The fucker messed you up and left you on the floor, so pick yourself up and keeping going."

It was a bit easier after that. Scott hadn't pulled his punches when he started calling Toby out on all his shit, and they had fought over it. Literally fought, fists and kicks and choke holds to the nines. Cavin hadn't stopped them, either. Just sat on his toolbox and watched and, when it was over, patched them both up and went back to work. Scott had even given Toby his wrench back, flashed a devlish grin, and had limped back to his station.

He loved those guys.

It had been a pretty hectic experience for their new 'secretary' though. Keres was a flightly little thing that took some getting used to for all the men, but once they did, it was like she was one of them. She wasn't a fan of the fighting. She wasn't a fan of the cussing either, or their table manners, or their hygiene habits. She was basically their wife, for lack of a better word. They even called her that, their little 'wifey'. She was a nice replacement after Scott's grandma died some two months after Toby moved into his new flat.

She took care of them and they all kind of liked it. She was a sweet girl.

So, naturally, when the local men started hanging around the garage a little longer than necessary, they beat the shit out of them and guarded her like hawks. Keres went from being 'wifey' to 'little sister' in the time it took for one cocky asshole to grab her ass in front of Scott. The offender had gotten a tire iron to the leg, and would have gotten run over by a Ford F150 if Keres hadn't practically ripped the transmission out while Scott tried hotwiring the truck because he was intent on blood right that second, and the keys were in the office.

She wasn't helpless though, which she proved by putting Cavin in his place the first time the Irishman had tried to tell her she couldn't be alone with the customers anymore. Particularly of the male variety. Toby could hear her screaming from his bed, and had come down to see Cavin backed against the desk and staring at the blonde bombshell like she was about to sprout blades for hands and rip him apart.

They didn't try to keep her contained after that. She could hold her own pretty well. Plus, every once in a blue moon, Michael would watch her back whenever he was nearby. The guy liked to hang around the garage sometimes. He didn't bother anyone and he was quiet, so Toby never said anything against his presence. To be honest, he felt bad for him. Toby knew what it was like to live with horrifiying memories on a constant loop inside your head and to be expected to simply get over it. It was hard to adjust, had been one of the most painful things of his life, something he still struggled with.

So, yeah, he'd been there. He could relate. When Michael came around with that glazed look in his eye from all the meds the docs were shoving down his throat, Toby only nodded, gave him a Coke, and let him do his own thing. He hoped Blacklight could provide some kind of solace for the broken man.

Things went on like that for a while. Grace had her baby (a sweet baby girl they named Sophie after Toby and Mark's grandmother, and who had the brothers wrapped around her little finger within seconds of coming into the world), Cavin and Scott dropped the ball and announced they were getting married ("When did you even start dating? I didn't know you were gay, you bastards!"), Keres had her first Christmas with the ragtag gang in the garage, Rocket had surgery on his heart, nearly putting Toby in debt had everyone not chipped in for the operation, and Michael was given permission to stop taking his pills.

The days came and went until finally Toby stopped counting how long it had been since he'd heard Alex's voice or saw his face. Felt his touch. The anger eventually faded into something akin to acceptance. He began to understand why Alex had did what he had, why he had acted like their relationship meant nothing to him. It all came down to one simple, human thing: fear.

Alex had been afraid. He had been fearful of what his coworkers would think, worried of how he would be percieved in society, of the acceptance he would be denied because of something as simple as who he chose to kiss. That kind of fear was like a disease, something Toby couldn't touch. Toby couldn't fix that because it was all Alex.

_That _Toby finally managed to understand and accept. That was something he could forgive. He would not be the type of person to harbor anger toward a man who was scared of himself. It wasn't fair.

Not to say he forgave Alex for what he did; he forgave Alex for being a coward. Toby wasn't okay with being hidden for three years and played with and ultimately having it thrown back in his face, not by a long shot. But he wasn't mad anymore. He wasn't hurt. He was just disappointed. Disappointed that, in the end, Alex couldn't find the courage to admit who he was even to himself.

Toby was okay with that. Eventually, he left Alex where he belonged.

In the past.

.I.

"You sure you can handle her?"

"Uh, duh. Who do you think I am? Cavin?" Mark shuddered at the memory of the Irishman's last attempt at babysitting his daughter, and Toby chuckled. "I've got this. Don't sweat it."

"No pop this time, Toby."

"Got it."

"And no candy after seven."

"Right."

"And remember to give her a glass of milk before bedtime. And rub her back."

"I know, Mark."

"No T.V. after seven, either. No junkfood. And - "

"Jesus, Mark. I know," Toby interrupted, exasperated. He laughed at Mark's pissed off glare. "It's not the first time I've watched her, just chill."

"It's the first time she's spent the weekend though," he retorted, hugging his sleeping daughter against his chest. The years had been good to him since his daughter's birth, Toby suddenly thought. His brown hair wasn't long and floppy anymore like Bieber, but cropped short and messily swept into lazy spikes. Grace had said it was sex hair, the kind that you just want to shove your fingers through and hold in your fists. He had laugh lines too, now. Toby blinked, suddenly feeling much older than his 28 years. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Mark asked, frowning more out of concern now than annoyance.

"Nothing," Toby said, and then, "You know I love you, right?"

Mark's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Yes. And I love you too, even though I'm kind of worried you're going to get my daughter chocolate wasted."

Toby didn't laugh, still distracted by the man his brother had become. When had that happened? Jesus. He shook his head and forced a smile. "Give me the brat so you can catch your cruise, idiot." He reached out and carefully gathered the sleeping tyke in his arms, kissing her blonde head softly so as not to wake her. Even in her sleep, she was still clutching the raggedy panda bear he had bought her the day she was born against her chest.

When he looked up, Mark was regarding him thoughtfully, head tilted to the side and eyes way too expressive for Toby's liking. He hated to admit it, but they were getting too sentimental the older they got. "What?"

"You would've made a good dad, is all," Mark said, taking Toby by surprise.

He snorted and rubbed Sophie's small back through her Hello Kitty pajamas, uncomfortable. "Whatever. Call me if you decide to get eaten by Jaws, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, jerk," Mark snorted, quickly ducking in to kiss his daughter on the cheek and give his brother a tight one-armed hug. "I'll see you Monday."

"Try not to let Grace fall overboard," Toby smirked as Mark backed away toward his Jeep. "But, I mean, if you push her, I won't say anything."

After Mark left, Toby carried Sophie to the kid-room he had set up just for her the day he moved into the cookie-cutter house on Thompson Drive. It had been a pretty cheap buy, and the mortgage wasn't even that bad. After staying above the garage for a year, something inside just demanded a change. He had ended up moving into the two bedroom, two bathroom house during the summer (something Cavin and Scott still bitched about, four years later) and hadn't regretted the decision yet.

He put her on the little bed and covered her with her favorite princess blanket, tucking her panda in next to her. He stayed there for a little while, just watching her sleep. She was so beautiful. Blonde hair, like her mother's, but she had the Knight's trademark cat-green eyes. Toby could tell she was going to be a little heartbreaker when she got older - and vicious. Though she channeled her father's loving compassion rather well, her mother's temper had proven to be a strong trait.

The teen years were going to be hell.

Toby smiled to himself and smoothed her soft hair away from her pink face before standing and leaving the room, letting the door stay propped open because he knew she was afraid of the dark. He went to the kitchen and started making pancakes.

He added a mound of chocolate chips with an impish grin.

.II.

Alex raked a hand through his hair and shook his head, frustrated. The powerpoint was still lacking terribly, and the charts were showing a sharp decline somewhere during the middle of last year. He knew sales had fallen during the recession, but, really, that much? His superiors were not going to pleased with the results. Tanaka pharmacuticals was not going to be sold with these kinds of figures, even Alex could see the risk in investing with such an obviously unstable product. Personally, he wouldn't touch the deal with a ten foot pole.

But he was expected to sell it, or else he would lose his job.

He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, pressing his fingers into them until he saw spots dancing. Maybe being fired wasn't such a bad thing, he mused. He hated his job. It had been nothing but a pain in his ass since - well. Since ever. He'd never been satisfied with it. His team was nothing but pricks and stuck up liberals, always finding something to complain about.

Plus, their addiction to smoking had always made him want to pour the ashes down their throats and watch them gag.

"Getting anywhere with it yet?" He dropped his hands to find Dana standing next to the desk, hip cocked and one arm stretched out offering a cup of steaming coffee. He took it with a grateful look, sucking down half of it in one go. She winced. "I guess not, then."

"No," he agreed.

"Well, take a break then. Go get some fresh air or something. No use sitting up here hoping it'll solve itself, is there?"

Alex frowned down into the black coffee swirling in his mug. He didn't say anything, which was as good as agreeing to his sister. She pushed his shoulder and gave him a pointed look when he glared in protest.

"I said go. I'm tired of looking at your moping face, it's getting on my nerves."

"I'm not _moping_, Dana."

"The hell you are," she pushed him again, but this time he got up with a growl of irritation. "You're ruining my good mood."

His mug made a heavy thump as he put it down heavily next to the tower, careful not to slosh the liquid and risk electrocuting his work away. He muttered an apology and turned away, looking for his shoes. There really was no point in fighting her and, truthfully, he could go for a break. Dana followed him into the living room and watched him pull the scuffed things on.

"Try to stay out a while, okay? I've got a friend coming over." His head snapped up, and she laughed - a tinkling, _girly _sound he had never heard come from her, ever.

"Who?" he demanded sharply.

"None of your business."

"Dana..."

She shrugged, preening under his murderous look. "Unless you want to stay and watch hot, sweaty sex, I suggest you get going."

His jaw dropped in mortification, horrified at the very _thought _of...of...Shit. "You don't say things like that, you're my _sister_."

"Yeah," she agreed, jerking a thumb toward the door. "And your sister wants to get laid. So scoot."

"What's his name? Where does he live?"

"No, Alex, you're not going to kill him."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't have to." Someone knocked on the door and Alex stood, giving Dana threatening look. "Alex, don't you - ALEX!"

They both wrestled to the door, fighting to open it first. The man on the other side flinched back as the door was flung open wide and the two siblings stood before him, tangled in the midst of a tussle. Dana growled, a noise that reminded Alex too much of himself and surprised him enough that his grip slackened, and then shoved Alex hard in the side of the head, out of the door.

"Richard! Glad you could make it," she said brightly, not paying Alex any attention as he rubbed his face and glared at the stranger, sizing him up. "This is my brother Alex."

"Hi," the man said uncertainly, offering his hand for a shake. Alex glared harder and crossed his arms over his chest. Richard slowly dropped his hand back to his side. "Should I come back later?"

"No, no! Alex was just leaving," Dana gushed, pulling her lover into the apartment with a sharp look at Alex. "_Goodbye, _Alex."

Before he could say anything, the door was slammed in his face and he was left in the hallway with nothing but Dana's elderly neighbor watching him from behind her coke bottle spectacles, eyes three times larger behind the strong lenses. He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, begging for patience as he turned and headed for the elevator before Ms. Robinson could invite him in for finger sandwiches.

At the sound of a very loud, very feminine, moan, however, he started running.

.III.

After Toby had left him, Alex had nearly gone insane. He was in such a wreak that Dana hardly knew what to do with him. It was the first time that he ever truly showed any kind of emotion aside from hate and aggrivation. It shocked them both. She was the only reason he didn't go crawling back on his knees and beg for Toby to come back. She was the only reason he retained some form of stability.

It wasn't that he was drowning in feelings - he wasn't a heartbroken woman choking back tears. What he was, was a man suffering an intense amount of guilt and having the worst possible time trying to breathe around the clog of regret blocking his throat. He was intelligent enough to recognize how he had let a good thing go. He was aware that Toby was the one constant in his entire life, the person who made the bad things better and who kept him focused.

And, suddenly, because he was stupid and too caught up in his own selfishness, he had lost that.

No, not lost, he'd surgically cut that part of his life out with a few simple words that were sharper than any knife in the world.

And he hated it.

The first few months after that night in the snow, he was in danger of being arrested for stalking. Had Dana acted on her threats, he wouldn't be trying to scratch together a sale for the Japanese with Gentek. He'd be some convict's bitch.

He'd kept tabs on Toby - making sure he was okay, tracking his whereabouts, and would have interrogated every customer that went into Blacklight if he hadn't finally realized that he wasn't doing anyone any favors, least of all himself. In fact, he was pretty much torturing himself.

But he couldn't let go, he couldn't move on. He didn't want to. What he could do, though, was back off and let Toby live his own life. Alex had contented himself with the past four years by watching the man he still loved live a life without him.

Maybe he would've moved on had Toby found someone, but he hadn't. He never even dated, never associated with anyone really besides his two 'brothers' and his actual brother's family. Maybe because of that, on some subconscious level, Alex couldn't move on because he was waiting for Toby to find him again.

.IV.

The zoo was pretty desolate when Alex arrived, as it usually was. He'd started coming almost every weekend a few months back after returning an escaped red-tailed hawk that had taken refuge on top of his building.

One of the zoo keepers had explained that Bartolomeo, Barty for short, had escaped during feeding hours when the handler left the cage open to scoop in his grains. The hawk was so tame, however, that it didn't fly far and was very agreeable when Alex found him.

A thin metal clasp on the hawk's left leg identified the zoo's address so Alex knew where to return him. Since then, the zoo had allowed him to come around free of charge (though he still paid because the business was deeply in debt) whenever he liked to check on Barty or hang around the elephant exhibit – something he dared not tell Dana, because he knew she would rib him to death for it.

Sometimes, depending on who was working, they would let him inside the enclosures and get closer to the animals. The zoo was such a tiny business, on the verge of being sold out by the Bronx Zoo and Central Park Zoo, that the staff was more like a tightly knit family than coworkers. The animals would eventually be transferred, Alex was told. The owner just couldn't pay the bills.

Thinking about it always depressed him because he'd grown fond of the animals. There weren't many and the few the place did have were tame enough to be pets. Even the Bengal Tiger, a beautiful male they called One Day, acted like an overgrown house cat, pressing his face against the steel bars of his enclosure so Alex could rub his elegant head and behind his ears whenever he came by.

There was Edna the nervous ostrich, an aged silverback gorilla named Paulo, Azul the camel, Sirikit the massive elephant and Cincinnati, an albino alligator that had to be sprayed down with sunscreen twice a day because of a rare skin condition that actually gave it sunburn.

Most of the animals had been rescues from a traveling Carnival that had severely mistreated them, which explained why Edna had a nervous tick and hardly ever lifted her head above grass level, and why Paulo was blind in one eye. Each of the animals had issues, their heart wrenching tales of survival enough to crack the toughest of men, but the small zoo had served as a rehabilitation center for them over the years and eased their suffering.

Often Alex wished he'd discovered it sooner. Perhaps he'd have been able to invest something, save the place before the state decided to shut it down. But, in reality, he hardly had enough money to sustain himself, much less a zoo harboring a less-than-stellar exhibit and a single snack bar ran by one woman and a teenager; the zoo owner's wife and daughter.

The income of the place was barely a blip on the radar. Despite the financial crisis the zoo was obviously in, somehow the staff never failed to care for the animals. They never went hungry, never went without affection. It really was a safe haven for them.

And for Alex.

He had wandered through the tiny park toward the elephant exhibit, the furthest from the entrance and coincidentally the least visited. Sirikit was playing with the bouncy ball someone had dropped in his enclosure. His long trunk rolled and bounced the ball back and forth, even flicking it into the little pond near the feeding trough.

Alex leaned against the railing, a small grin lifting the edges of his mouth. He chuckled as Sirikit splashed into the pond and kicked the ball back out, trumpeting in delight as the toy raced away.

"Hey!" A breathless woman smiled broadly at him as she jogged up, her tan uniform shirt dusty and smudged with dirt. The stitching on her shirt said 'Amanda'. "Thought I saw you come in. How've you been? We haven't seen you around for a while."

Alex shrugged a shoulder. "Work," he replied. "I haven't had much free time."

She nodded like she understood, and she probably did. Alex knew Amanda had worked in an office before being hired into the zoo's homestead. David, the zoo keeper, had brought her in only a short while ago. She was still fairly new.

"Wanna help me feed the big 'ol brat?" she asked, her smile ten miles wide and blinding. Usually, perky people annoyed the hell out of him and he did all he could to avoid them at all costs. But Amanda was alright, if albeit cheeky. She meant well.

He nodded and followed her to the gate, patiently waiting while she unlocked it and removed the steal latches. "He's been kind of cranky this week, so I've been putting some sugar cubes in his grains. I think it's helping him."

"You're going to make him fat."

She laughed and waved a dismissive hand. "He's already fat, aren't you, baby boy?" she cooed. Sirikit's ears twitched at the sound of their approach. He abandoned his toy in favor of lumbering over and immediately nudging at their pockets for treats. Amanda, laughing, pushed his trunk away and strolled over to the trough. "Keep him busy for me? The thing was jammed yesterday and he had a fit waiting for me to get the food out."

Alex nodded again and reached out to stroke Sirikit's trunk, gaining his attention. The hide was surprisingly smooth under his palm, like an eraser. He murmured quietly under his breath while Amanda jiggled with the latch suspended above the feeding trough, it's long pipe-like structure connected through a series of other pipes that allowed Sirikit's meals to flow through from the grainery on the other side of the enclosure.

Sirikit snorted and dropped his trunk heavily onto Alex's shoulder. His mouth was open in something of a grin. Alex chuckled and rubbed the smooth skin from the elephant's trunk up to his forehead, knowing that spot was Sirikit's weakness. Sure enough, Sirikit huffed and lowered his head even more, bumping Alex affectionately.

"Wish I had my camera," he heard Amanda say. He leaned to the side and saw her still cranking the lever, sweating a little in the fall warmth. "He adores you, Alex. You know he's been throwing tantrums? I think it's because you haven't been around to see him."

"I doubt that."

"No, seriously, elephants do that. They get really emotional, just like people." The pipe groaned and finally clanked free, spraying Sirikit's breakfast into the trough. Amanda made a satisfied squeal and pumped a fist before turning to face him. "He's missed you. I should know, I've been taking care of his whiny butt since you were last here."

Alex rolled his eyes and gave Sirikit's trunk a pat, pushing a little to direct him to his food. Sirikit blew out heavily and bumped Alex again - and then wrapped his trunk around Alex's middle, hefting him about a foot in the air.

"Sirikit!" Amanda cried, running over in a panic. There were popular incidents where elephants had gone rogue and harmed people, crushing their bodies with their strong trunks or stomping them to death. Alex knew all about the dangers, had thoroughly researched each animal the zoo had just to be safe and not upset them.

Right then, he wished he had researched a little more.

"Sirikit, down! Put him down!"

Alex tensed and gripped Sirikit's trunk in fear, expecting the squeezing muscle to tighten until all he felt was agony. But nothing happened. After a moment, Alex slowly opened his eyes, panting, and warily looked up into Sirikit's deep black gaze.

The elephant was 'smiling' again as he lifted Alex a little higher, angling himself away from Amanda's groping hands and presenting his back. Alex's breath wheezed out of him as comprehension dawned. Sirikit was _playing_.

Not exactly the kind of game Alex preferred, to be frank, but it was a sight better than being squeezed to death. "Amanda," he said. She was nearly hysterical, much to the elephant's obvious amusement. He was beginning to show his true troublemaking colors. "Amanda!"

"Are you okay? Oh, my god! I'll get David, Alex, don't worry!"

"It's fine," he said, louder. He patted Sirikit's forehead and gave him a stern look. "Down. Now."

Sirikit harrumphed, but did as Alex commanded, placing him carefully on the ground once more. Amanda was on him in seconds, running her hands over his stomach checking for broken bones. He grabbed her hands and pointedly pushed them away.

"It's fine," he repeated. "He was just playing a game." A slight smile graced his mouth, and Amanda seemed to calm down. "I guess he has missed me."

Amanda scowled sharply and pointed a finger at the amused elephant. "You are so grounded, do you hear me? No more sugar cubes. See if I'm ever nice to you again!"

Alex laughed quietly and raised an eyebrow as Sirikit curled his trunk up against his forehead and lolled his tongue out in amusement, obviously not intimidated by the woman's threats. Amanda threw her hands up and stormed toward the gate. "You two are incorrigible."

Alex shrugged helplessly, unable to see what he had done to deserve such a comment. Sirikit gave his shoulder a friendly push and Alex rubbed his cheek, directing him to the feeding trough and leaving him to eat. He followed Amanda back out onto the trail to help her with her rounds, content to spend the rest of his Saturday among the animals.

.V.

By the time Alex had reached One Day's exhibit, he was beginning to believe what Amanda had said about the animal's having noticed his absence. Each had done something out of the ordinary when he showed up, from Edna lifting her head to Paulo actually coming off his pride rock look-a-like and snorting in acknowledgement instead of ignoring them altogether.

It had attracted quite the crowd, too. Larger than usual, anyway. It was nothing to boast about but it was something, at least, and Alex was happy that the zoo was getting more business. Even at his expense.

When they walked into One Day's enclosure, he was sunning by his watering hole lazily licking his paws, his back to them. Amanda was humming a song under her breath as she strolled toward the corner where a metal shute would open and One Day's meal would be waiting. Alex kicked a rock distractedly, eyeing the milling group of visitors ambling around the trail outside the fence.

Most of them were older, their brightly colored sweat suits and fanny packs almost an eyesore. Attached at the knee were, Alex assumed, their grandchildren sticky from Mrs. David's homemade candy apples and clutching decorative balloons that had the zoo's name embalzoned on the front.

One Day was still not paying them any attention. Being upwind from Alex, he hadn't quite noticed his presence yet. As Alex waited for Amanda to finish, he let his eyes lazily roam over the people until - there. A flash of black-as-night hair caught his attention. Alex's head wrenched around so quickly it was a wonder it didn't snap. Broad shoulders, a forest green jacket with the sleeves shoved up over tone forearms, low hanging cargo shorts. Strong legs. Wide stance.

Alex tripped, somehow. He hadn't realized he was moving, his eyes riveted on the back of the strangely familiar man's head who was walking away from the exhibit toward Cincinnati's pond. It couldn't be who he thought - hoped - it was. It had been years now since he'd laid eyes on Toby, but...he could never forget a single detail about the man.

His heart was pounding in his chest. "Toby!" He tried yelling, but his voice came out as a croak. He tried again, managing to get a sharp bark of a name this time. It was enough. The man stopped and turned, curious as to who was calling for him. Alex watched those familiar eyes scan the crowd, a frown pulling his eyebrows in a deep furrow.

It felt as if someone had gut checked him, hard. Alex gaped. Toby had grown over the years. He was bigger, like he had spent a lot of time in the gym. Which wasn't surprising, even when they were together Toby was active. He was tanned and his biceps were stretching the material of his sweater in a way they never had before, and he was so damn handsome Alex could only stare.

Finally, after a painful second of watching Toby search for who had called him, their eyes met and locked through the steel bars of One Day's cage. He saw Toby's eyes widen in surprise, and his mouth fall open. For one amazing, glorious second, Alex felt an intense rush of happiness so strong he thought he might bowl over into the dirt.

But then he really was bowling into the dirt as a heavy, fanged weight hit him broadside and tackled him to the ground, cutting off the sight of Toby's suddenly horrified expression as One Day attacked.

Alex was too disoriented at first to truly register what was happening, all of his thought processes were on Toby. He was _here_, he was really _here._ Alex probably shouldn't have called out his name. He probably should have just let him keep walking. The man had a new life now, Alex had no right to impose on it anymore. But he couldn't even feel guilty about it. Toby had belonged to him first and, even know, Alex felt the claim they had laid on each other over three years ago burning hot in his chest and pushing his pulse near rabbit-level excitement.

"No, no! It's fine! He's not hurting him, don't be scared," he heard Amanda shout, attempting to calm the hysterical crowd who believed a vicious tiger had suddenly ripped into an unsuspecting handler. If they didn't act fast, it would be all over the news. One Day would be publicized as some monster and put down. The zoo would be closed within days. "He's just playing - what are you doing?! Stop! Hey, I said stop!"

One Day was a purring mess on top of Alex, shoving and rubbing his head against Alex's chest and licking his neck and face. To the crowd, it probably looked like the tiger was trying to make a chew toy out of him from the massive bulk and jerky movements of elation One Day was making. Pounding feet caught Alex's attention and he craned his neck to the side, staring in shock as a man all but launched himself over the fence and into the enclosure.

It was Toby.

Amanda ran to cut him off, her arms thrown open wide. Alex turned back to face One Day and pressed his hands into the tiger's chest, pushing hard to get him to back off so Alex could roll to his feet. When he did, Toby was trying in vain to get past Amanda without touching her - he had always been cautious about that, about hurting a woman or even giving the impression.

Alex had believed for the longest time it was because he didn't want to get charged with sexual assault, seeing as it was such a big issue in the Marines and if they so much as glimpsed at a female they were slapped with UCMJ action. But no, it was a respect thing. The way his mother had raised him. He didn't touch them in any form of aggression because he believed them delicate little things that needed protecting.

"What are you doing, you can't be in here!"

"That thing was attacking him! Would you just - lady, please, just get out of the way," Toby snapped, trying to duck around her, but Amanda refused to let him pass.

Alex was frozen in place, amazed at what was happening. Toby was actually standing there, the aviators he wore to prevent bright light from inducing his headaches were shoved onto the top of his head and reflecting the sun's rays in a way that almost made it look like he was outlined with incandescent light. His entire body was taught with adrenaline. Alex imagined he could see the man's erratic pulse through his neck.

It struck him then that Toby was worried - for _him._

The crowd was in an uproar. It didn't help matters that One Day chose that moment to heave himself at Alex again, this time remaining on his two back legs and hugging Alex tightly with his strong paws, rubbing and nuzzling against his face like a loving kitten. Alex could hear the little kids crying and frightened men and women yelling from behind the bars. Amanda, sensing the zoo's imminent obstruction, pushed past the frantic man in front of her and addressed the crowd again.

"Please, just calm down! He's fine, he's not hurting him! Look, just look! Please!"

Alex tore his eyes away from Toby's stricken expression in favor of wrapping his arms around One Day's massive body, hugging him right back. His heart was wrenching inside his chest. He pressed his face into One Day's sun warmed fur and tried to even his breathing, allowing the over grown feline to continue nuzzling and snuggling his much smaller frame. It was difficult to hold up all of One Day's five-hundred pound body, but Alex managed.

"See?" he heard Amanda say. "It's a hug, One Day is a very tame animal."

As if to prove her point further, One Day began purring even louder and licked Alex full in the face. The crowd practically melted, declaring a crisis avoided.

Alex tuned them out after that, his attention now solely focused on Toby and the baffled look on his handsome face. Carefully, he extricated himself from One Day's furry clutches and stood silently, unconsciously memorizing every detail he could. It might be the last time he saw him. He wanted to remember everything. Those bottle green eyes were wide with so much emotion, Alex was forever in awe that a man could survive feeling that much without drowning. And he was tense, stiff as a board. God, he'd changed so much.

At his side, One Day continued to push his massive face against Alex's hip and demand attention. Amanda turned back to them, face flushed and hands shaking. "David is going to kill me. I'm so fired."

He didn't take his eyes off Toby. "You won't be fired."

"Yes I will, they were going crazy, didn't you hear them? We're going to get a formal complaint." When Alex didn't respond, she looked between the two of them, eyeing them uncertainly. "Do you...know each other?"

Toby raised an eyebrow at the question, and suddenly his expression turned somewhat cynical. _Do _you know me? he seemed to be asking. Do you know me now?

Alex grit his teeth and nodded curtly. "Yes." He knew it wouldn't be enough, that saying 'yes' didn't win him any points or erase the past four years from either of their memories. Alex wasn't even sure anything could. "Yes, we know each other."

"We used to," Toby said dismissively, his eyes dropping from their pinning gaze to the tiger circling around Alex's legs. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Toby's brush off hurt more than Alex expected. Most days he wished he could go back to a time where nothing had changed, to lazy mornings spent in bed or late nights sprawled in the living room with a box of pizza and plastic cups of Mountain Dew. He wanted to relive all the games they went to together, all the jokes and anniversaries and laughs, even the tears. He even missed the bad days. The fights they had, Toby's nightmares, calling out his own insecurities. He missed all of it.

"I'm..." He cleared his throat, forcing the words out past the memories lodged there. "I help out. Sometimes."

Toby glanced back up at him, frowning with suspicion. "You hardly tolerated Rocket, now you're hugging tigers?"

He lifted a shoulder awkwardly. "Rocket pissed on the carpet."

Surprisingly, an amused grin lifted the corners of Toby's mouth. Alex expected a rebuttal, an insult, maybe. But he couldn't even see anger in Toby's eyes. There was no hate there, the hate that Toby had claimed he felt whenever his eyes landed on Alex. He smiled in response, unable to fight it. His chest ached.

"Yeah," Toby agreed, showing teeth in his boyish grin. "Only because you wouldn't rub his belly."

Alex couldn't help it, he made a face. He'd always hated rubbing that damn dog's stomach - mostly because if you did it once, Rocket would seek you out at any time during the day or night, shove his nose in your crotch, and whine for you to do it again.

The first and last time the dog did it, Alex had just stepped out of the shower and had made the mistake of leaving the bathroom door open, a habit he picked up when it became obvious Toby liked the invitation to join. Only, it hadn't been Toby who'd bounded into the bathroom that day, and it definitely wasn't Toby who had shoved his cold-as-ice nose into Alex's groin, either.

Alex was pulled from the unpleasant memory by the throaty sound of Toby's laugh. He couldn't help himself, he stared in amazement, taking in the bright gleam of those glass eyes and the enigmatic smile pulled back over white teeth. He was struck dumb. Mute. Helplessly falling all over again.

One Day broke the moment by yawning, dropping his mouth open wide and ambling away toward his morning meal with a confident gait. Alex blinked slowly and forced himself to look at Amanda instead. "We should get out of here, some of the visitors are probably still upset."

She nodded and quickly ushered himself and Toby toward the gate. "Well it didn't help that your friend leaped over the fence like freaking Captain America. Who are you, anyway? Don't you know you could've gotten your face chewed off?"

Toby snorted in response. Alex could feel the quick looks Toby kept shooting his way, burning the side of his face. "My name's Toby. And I thought you said he was tame?"

Amanda sputtered. "He is!"

"But he was going to chew my face off?"

"No, but he could've if he were any other tiger," she muttered, expertly locking the gate behind them when they finally exited. They were not two feet from the gate when they were suddenly swarmed by massive bodies crushing in on them from all sides.

"Jaysus, have ya lost yer fockin' mind, wanker?!"

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"No cussing! Momma said cussing is bad, and I'm telling!"

Alex took a step back, belatedly realizing the 'swarm of massive bodies' was no more than two men. Two very large men whom he recognized as Toby's mechanics. The broader one, the one Alex thought they called Irish back from Toby's garage, was holding a little girl in his arms. Next to him, the other was gesturing wildly and looking at Toby like the man had lost his mind. Toby was laughing, though, and Amanda just looked pissed.

"Sophie is right, stop with the cussing. Last thing I need is Mark skinning me alive because she went home repeating that junk." He reached for the little girl, who immediately threw her arms out in acceptance, and clung to Toby's neck once he got a hold of her.

"Oh, sorry, lad. I just thought she might be a wee bit traumatized by the fact that _her uncle tried to take on a bloody tiger._"

Alex watched as Toby rolled his eyes. He tilted his head so he could see his niece. "Were you scared?"

She shook her head. "You're superman," she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her big green eyes turned to the man who had been holding her. "_Duh._"

Toby smirked and gave his friend a 'well there you have it' look and got a subtle middle finger in response when the man rubbed at the corner of his eye with a sharp glare. Alex felt himself warm at the sound of Toby's laugh, raking his eyes over that smiling mouth. God, how he'd missed that sound.

Feeling someone looking at him, Alex dragged his eyes away from Toby and met the intense frown coming from one of the other men. It hit him then, he knew these two. He remembered them. Cavin and Scott - the only two who had known about his and Toby being together.

Alex blinked, and Scott's suspicious look turned into something decidedly glacial. Cavin, the roguish man next to Scott, shifted and finally alighted his gaze on Alex as well when he noticed Scott's exrpession- and stiffened. Finally, Toby turned to Alex and suddenly he didn't want to be there anymore with all of them looking at him. Amanda had since abandoned their little group to reassure the visitors. He was on his own.

"Please tell me you didn't jump in a tiger cage to save this bas...guy," Scott growled, amending his sentence with a bit of difficulty.

Toby shrugged and bounced his niece, Sophie, on his hip. "Yeah. So?"

"So you have amnesia, boyo?"

"Nope."

Alex could only stare.

.VI.

The thing was, Toby just couldn't be angry anymore. He'd done a lot of soul searching over the years and finally reached the conclusion that he wasn't getting any younger. He couldn't take back what was done and he couldn't erase it from his memory. The way he saw it, he could let the past eat him alive and rule him for the rest of his miserable life, or he could learn from it, accept it and move on.

He was still hurt and more than likely he'd still be hurt until the day they threw him in the ground. He'd sacrificed four long years hiding in the closet with Alex, and that was four years he'd never get back. But, honestly, he didn't regret them. They were the best days of his life and, now, after getting over the heartache, he could look back at those times and be grateful for the happiness he was given. For the pleasure he recieved and the love he gained.

He didn't blame Scott and Cavin for getting angry and he's sure Alex didn't blame them either. It was pretty fucked up what Alex had done, but Toby had let him. He'd given him permission. The blame was on both their shoulders.

"This is crazy," Scott complained. "You're stupid!"

"Your insults aren't worth anything without all the swearing," Toby snarked. Scott only glared back at him. He turned back to Sophie and scrunched their noses together until she giggled. "You remember the picture I showed you?" She nodded. "You know who this is?" She nodded again. "Why don't you say hi, then." Sophie twisted in his hold and stuck out her little arm to Alex, offering a formal handshake. After a half-second hesitation, Alex took her much smaller hand inside his and gave a slight shake.

"Hi, Alex. I'm Sophie," she said, her grin wide and excited. "Unka Toby's got your picture in his pocket, he shows it to me a lot." She said this almost gravely and gave Alex her most serious look, looking too old for her young age. "Are you gonna marry now like Unka Scott and Cab?"

The shock that registered on Alex's face had Toby laughing loudly, and it was a good while before he could recover enough to speak. He kissed Sophie on the cheek amusedly. "No, honey, that's not going to happen." He looked back at Alex then, and smiled. Free and easy. "How about just a second chance for now?"

What could Alex do but agree?

::::EPILOGUE:::

This is what happened:

Alex took the second chance like a starving man. Though Toby had offered, he didn't make it easy by any means. Alex really had to work to gain back the trust he had burned, and then some. It took a long while, but Alex never gave up, never stopped trying. He even quit his job - after successfully selling the unstable product and donating the earnings to the zoo. It was enough money to pay off the debts and even do some much needed renovations.

He also came out to his coworkers and boss. With Toby in the room. And then he'd kissed him, right there in front of everyone. The uproar it caused hit the papers and pretty much ruined Gentek's image by the media (because Alex's boss, a paunchy old man with a bad attitude, Vidic Warren, had publicized his stereotypical homophobic tendencies and refusal to hire anyone with such preferences). Some rumors were started that Alex had been mistreated for his sexuality while under Vidic's employment, which painted the company as a whole in such a bad light that it didn't seem likely it would ever recover.

Alex never confirmed nor denied the rumors, so naturally the public assumed the worst. That the man was too traumatized by the ordeal that he never wanted to relieve the memories ever again.

It took even longer for Alex to wriggle his way back into Scott and Cavin's good graces, but he managed, somehow. Alex assumed it had more to deal with them accepting the fact that Toby was happy than by any means of their own. He knew for a fact they would kidnap, torture and ultimately kill him if he so much as thought about stepping out of line again. The same went for Mark, who had thrown a fit reminescent of his daughter when Toby informed him that he and Alex were seeing each other again. Grace had no opinion on the subject. Dana was just happy Alex was gone from her apartment and couldn't scare away her current sex interests.

All in all, it was a choice Alex was relieved he had been given the chance to take. He was happy. For the first time since he'd thrown Toby from his life, he felt as if he could breathe again. Every morning he woke up to those cat green eyes watching him, the worry that had plagued them those first few months after finding each other again wiped clean in place of bright, open adoration that Alex returned in kind. Again and again.

He'd never be able to apologize enough or say anything to take it all back, but he could give this. He could give himself, his soul, because that had been the price all along. And he was okay with that.


	16. Dragon Age Crossover

**A/N: **If you haven't played Dragon Age, then you might be confused reading this. Alex is a human rogue, Toby is a Dalish warrior and Keres is a human mage.

* * *

Alex sighed. "Didn't the Circle teach you anything?"

"Oh, yes. They taught me lots of things. Why?" Keres looked up at the rogue curiously, breaking her concentration on healing Toby's frostbite.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, annoyed. Toby had finally stopped his complaining, but the petulant look the warrior was giving him might as well have been louder than any bemoaning he could possibly do. Maker's breath, but they were a sight. "Because apparently you skipped the lesson where _friendly fire is not okay_."

Keres looked rightly admonished and ducked her head. "I didn't mean to! I was aiming for the bandits!"

"They were twenty yards to your left, Toby was right next to you."

"It was an accident!"

"_Ow!_" Toby flinched as the healer's touch turned a might punishable. "Andraste's tits, can you two quit your fighting until my fingers aren't black from cold?"

Alex threw his arms up and walked to the edge of their camp, Keres' apologies being a constant litany at his back that wouldn't stop until someone physically shut her up. At this rate it would be a miracle if they made it to the coastlands without killing one another.

* * *

The Blight was doing Toby no favors. As a warrior, he was used to the constant battles. As a Dalish elf, being constantly on the move was normal. But having to travel with a couple of _shems_ was not, in any way, okay. His culture dictated he hate them on principle, which he did. Gladly. Especially the male shemlin. Rogue or no, if the man decided to keep vanishing while they traveled and leave him alone with the blabbering mage, Toby was going to run the pair of them through with his blade and pin them to an oak for the wolves to gnaw on.

"You're frowning again." Creator help him, the girl was too happy in the morning. The sun had yet to rise completely, and already she was skipping around the fire as if doped up on lyrium. "The Grand Enchanter says frowning is bad because it means you have not read your passage from the Chant of Light for the day. And you're supposed to always - "

"The Grand Enchanter is a religious nut and you're a seedling being fed lies from the Chantry," Toby snapped. Immediately, he regretted the insult upon looking at the girl's heartbroken expression. True, between the two of them their cultures clashed more often and more violently than mabari hounds fighting over a kill than with the rogue. The humans worshipped a shem and based there every action off what the revered _Andraste _would do, while the Dalish remained content with their Pagan gods and woodland standards of living. Were it anyone else, Toby would bask in the hurt he'd caused against the foolish human's idol. But, somehow, it felt wrong to make the girl cry.

"Oh..." Her eyes began to water. Toby sighed and got to his feet, all screaming metal greaves and creaking leather.

"Wait, Keres, I'm sorry," he said, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "That was rude."

She sniffled and refused to meet his eye. He'd forgotten how sensitive women could be. The Dalish would not be caught dead crying like this. Shems were such fragile things.

"I'm sure the Chantry does a wonderful job of educating you. You'll have to forgive me, I grew up like a savage, remember?" Internally he grimaced at the slight against his own people, but..._tears._ Toby wasn't good with crying.

Keres rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her robe and nodded. "It's okay, Toby." Thankfully, a smile broke across her worried face and the warrior relaxed. "Alex told me you were on your cycle this week and that you'd be more moody than usual."

Toby blinked. "Cycle?"

"Yes," She smiled wider now that the elf had seemed to calm down. "It's okay to tell me when you're on it. The women at the Circle have it too, so I know what it is. I didn't know that the Dalish men underwent the same bodily function though. Alex assured me it's very natural, but that you might be a little...upset if I...brought it up. Toby? What's wrong?"

Toby could feel an embarrassed flush heating the tips of his pointed ears down to his neck. "Keres," he said slowly, grinding his molars to keep from screaming. "We don't have _cycles_. That's strictly for females."

"But Alex said..." Across the camp, Toby could hear the faint noise of the rogue's chuckle come from the thick foliage of the Brecilian forest. Toby flushed darker and took off at a sprint in the man's general direction.

"ALEX!"


End file.
